


Active

by HexMeridian (myrainbowshoelaces), lasciviousWildheart



Series: Infinity Mechanism [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8222359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrainbowshoelaces/pseuds/HexMeridian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasciviousWildheart/pseuds/lasciviousWildheart
Summary: "He realized he was staring at Jake’s shorts and he straightened up a bit, shaking his head from side to side. Focus, you sinner, he thought. It’s a friendly spar, not foreplay. “You got a scoring system?” he asked, keeping his tone as light as his steps. “How many times do I need to get you on your back before we call it quits?”Jake’s eyebrows shot up instinctively and he waggled them, knowing Dirk was close enough now to see. “Funny thing, I always thought for sure you’d prefer me on my knees.” He said, brisk and playful. He continued without missing a beat. “We can keep it simple. No god tier powers or weapons, of course. Whoever successfully restrains the other’s movement completely gets the win. Best two out of three?” He said that last bit in a question, wondering if Dirk would improve the terms or offer some rebuttal.Dirk had to use his carefully cultivated self control to keep his expression impassive. ------ Wrote this as an extended RP session with Hexmeridian--me as Jake, him as Dirk. It was a blast!





	1. Limnic Eruption

The sun felt hot and sharp on his bare skin. Sweat and the aching strain in his muscles reminded Jake English he was alive, made him feel visceral and focused. He didn’t do this kind of thing often enough anymore--run around and climb and sprawl, dig through roots and rocks and branches. His shirt was dirty and drenched and discarding it felt fantastic. Harsh afternoon heat bit deep, sinking into his pores, melting something cold deep in his guts. 

This had been his idea, but Jake had still expected to feel nervous. To his own surprise, he didn’t. He felt firm and solid, alive and confident and maybe a little cocky, too. He eyed his target from across the small field of grass and dirt--a spot he knew particularly well, because lifetimes ago he’d sat right there as a robot had saved his life and then proceeded to totally wreck his shit. 

The robot looked quite a bit like his current target--nearly identical, in fact. Standing here with the dead volcano and the dazzling blue sea and the deep green forest all around them, framing the ultimate bro fisticuffs showdown which would be recorded in hymn for epochs, made him feel downright...nostalgic. He was glad he’d insisted they climb out here. Flying was nice, and convenient, but this felt more physical and grounded. More real. 

Dirk was on guard the moment they reached the clearing, though he couldn’t put his finger on why. Jake had the advantage, tactically speaking - familiar terrain, familiar location, past experience - but what Dirk lacked in prior knowledge he made up for with experience. Or at least his version of experience, fists weren’t exactly comparable to a sword but here he was, agreeing to this exercise. 

He knew his motivations went beyond the scientific - of course they did, when Jake was involved all of Dirk’s motivations shifted to something somewhat south of science - but he definitely felt the climb. Nature was not Dirk’s customary habitat, and between the sun beating down against his shoulder blades, the itch and burn of biting insects along his bare arms, the scratch of itinerant flora that had attempted to assault him as they’d made their way through the undergrowth, and the fact that his hair was deflated beyond all recognition of his usual perfect style, he was ready to go hide in the sterile comfort of indoors. 

“Still up for this?” he called across the clearing, none of his inner turmoil reflecting his exterior features, his face stoic, impassive, even casual. “We can always call it a day, enjoy the quiet whisperings of mother nature’s aggressively violent children on a scenic stroll or something.” 

“Trying to throw in the towel already, Strider?” he boomed in return, all of his excitement practically rolling over his face. He put his fits to his hips and puffed out his chest. “Come on old chap, don’t disappoint me here! I was so dearly hoping to hear you cry uncle.” His grin split him open from ear to ear. It wasn’t a lie--he HAD been looking forward to this. The grit of the dirt, the wandering through deep wet underbrush.

 

 

He had grown up in these lands, under these trees--even if the planet had gone through about three temporal epochs, and these trees were all just a little bit different from what he was used to. He liked getting to show Dirk around the place, and even if the guy had spent most of the time being a big old sourpuss, that was fine with Jake-- he knew how to get Dirk’s spirits lifted. He made it a point to loosen his belt and stretched--down low on one knee, then another. 

Dirk huffed out a breath, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of Jake stretching out. He had to admit, climbing up here and getting a full view of Jake’s assets the entire way had taken the sting out of the insect bites, eased the distaste for the oppressive heat. Jake truly looked like he was at home out here, and even though this couldn’t be further from the case for Dirk, seeing the enthusiasm on the other’s face definitely indicated to him that this exercise might actually be worth more than a bad sunburn. 

“You won’t hear uncle coming out of me,” he called back, stepping into his own stretches. He was precise, careful, poised, moving through controlled flexes and contractions of his limbs with near meditative concentration. “Most you’ll get out of me is mention of some other relative. A cousin maybe. Second cousin twice removed at most.” The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Give it your best shot, English, we’ll see how many family members I invoke by the time we’re done here.” 

Jake muttered under his breath as he started walking towards Dirk. Had he stretched enough that Strider wouldn’t mouth off at him? Probably not, but he would do that no matter what he did, and he’d been straining and flexing the whole damn way here. He felt strong and fluid and limber. His best friend’s long legs were calling, covered in too-warm looking black fabric that didn’t seem to wrinkle anywhere. 

He didn’t want to wait any longer. His own shorts already felt awfully tight, but he liked them that way, and if he was getting hard then it could only help him if Dirk let himself get distracted by love in a time of war. He was in this to win it, had been looking forward to it for years, and he wasn’t above using any advantage he was able to hang on to. Truth be told, he’d probably need them all and then some. 

Strider seemed to grow in his vision, both physically by virtue of proximity, and metaphorically by virtue of his focus. The smell of salt and grass, the green and blue surrounding him completely, all of that was starting to fall away. All of it just spicing to add to the draw of Dirk. He stepped on the exact spot, he was sure, where Dirk’s robot had once sliced open a goat monsters’ neck to save him. His hero. His prince.

His rival, right now, Jake reminded himself. No use getting enamored right before a duel, not to mention intimidated. Dirk was competent and powerful, not to be underestimated, but Jake was coming to really understand--really believe--he was also a force to be reckoned with. It would feel nice to test his mettle once again, and against so worthy an adversary. It had been a while.

Dirk was light on his feet, stepping to meet Jake carefully, strategically. He didn’t doubt Jake would make use of every advantage he could, but this was the first time they had actually agreed to this, had made a plan to meet and clash in an actual strife. He didn’t want to seem nervous, but he felt it, a churning below the surface of his emotions, considering just what could happen without swords and guns between them. Jake was strong, he was toned (very toned, Dirk couldn’t forget the irresistible pull of those damned shorts, he knew they were there as a distraction, a chink in his armor), and more than anything, he had the improbable armor of belief to carry him beyond all expectations, especially his own. 

It was easy to get dazzled by his brilliance, and that was why Dirk wore his shades. He’d never survive the relentless questions of reality without them, never get the answers he so desperately desired. Yet Jake was always a question, a series of questions, some of them calculated and discerning (why are we here? Why wrestling instead of another mode of engagement? Why the impossibly tight shorts?), others the product of genuine curiosity, of desperation (Will we keep this up? What do you want with me? Will your belief extend to someone who comprehends through empirical proof? Can you love someone still so broken into pieces?). The times when Jake was the answer were the best, even if he often found them scarce as his mind attempted to drown itself in doubts. 

He realized he was staring at Jake’s shorts and he straightened up a bit, shaking his head from side to side. _Focus, you sinner_ , he thought. It’s a friendly spar, not foreplay. “You got a scoring system?” he asked, keeping his tone as light as his steps. “How many times do I need to get you on your back before we call it quits?” 

Jake’s eyebrows shot up instinctively and he waggled them, knowing Dirk was close enough now to see. “Funny thing, I always thought for sure you’d prefer me on my knees.” He said, brisk and playful. He continued without missing a beat. “We can keep it simple. No god tier powers or weapons, of course. Whoever successfully restrains the other’s movement completely gets the win. Best two out of three?” He said that last bit in a question, wondering if Dirk would improve the terms or offer some rebuttal.

Dirk had to use his carefully cultivated self control to keep his expression impassive. He really shouldn’t have been surprised - Jake was definitely making strategic use of both those ridiculous shorts and his grasp of innuendo - and he spread his hands. “Works for me,” he said. “Best two out of three, winner chooses activities for the rest of the day?” He had a few ideas about what activities the two of them could engage in out here that sounded considerably more worth the insect bites and sunburn than a basic hike. 

‘Splendid! Sounds downright perfect, if I do say so myself.” he answered. “On the mark of three, then? Your count.” He bent his knees, settling into position and doing his best to become aware of his surroundings. He knew how fast Dirk was--an attack could conceivably flashstep into being from anywhere. 

He mostly failed at keeping his eyes off Dirk’s crotch, though, given that it was now at eye level. Was that a hill he detected in the fabric? It was hard to tell, but he thought it was. He wasn’t really too interested in actually doing the deed right this second, but boy, thinking about it sure made this all more exciting.

Dirk wasn’t sure how much of Jake’s strategy of distraction involved him making eyes at Dirk’s pants, but he wasn’t complaining. Maybe he could use that to his advantage as well. Stepping light again before settling into a stance, he eyed Jake carefully and raised his hands, defensive but mobile. 

“One,” he began, bending his knees. He had strategies and plans of actions already forming in his mind, and he instantly had to push them to one side. Jake wasn’t the enemy, even if he currently filled the position of opponent. He didn’t need to crush him, decimate him, this wasn’t life or death. Jake was tough, but Dirk didn’t want to overdo it, not when things between them had been going so well lately. 

“Two.” 

He surveyed the terrain quickly, debated his options, looked at Jake’s expression, determined. He dipped his head down just enough for his shades to slide down the bridge of his nose, allowing him to meet Jake’s eager emerald gaze with his own intense creamsicle orange. 

He failed to resist the urge to think about how tight Jake’s shorts were, and tensed, ready to move lightning fast as soon as he breathed his final word. His lips quirked up in a smile. 

“THREE.” 

This was probably for the best. Dirk would have predicted just about anything he tried to start off with, after all--why not go for directness? When he jumped into the air, Jake had meant it to be a feint, but he’d misjudged the distance or perhaps his body had had different plans altogether--enticed as it was by the promise of the other boy’s weft and weight. He barreled through the air in a dead forward lunge instead, pale skin and orange eyes racing towards him, nothing else existing at all, and he realized with a thrill there was a chance he might actually make contact--

Dirk stepped to the side, deliberate and calm yet fluid. Jake sailed past him and he remained impassive, not advancing or attacking, just watching, the smile still on his face. “Careful,” he said, his tone level. “That first step, they tell me it’s a doozy.” 

Jake swore as he landed deftly on the balls of his feet and bounced immediately, spinning in the air to avoid losing sight of Dirk. Ah well, he should have known better than to think that would work. He leapt at him again, figuring ONE foolish leap Dirk would surely see coming, but TWO he would likely not predict, as it was too dumb. This time he jumped low, trying to catch Dirk by the knees and force him groundsward--the sooner he could turn this into a grapple, the less clever Dirk could get on those quick little feet of his. 

Jake’s jump caught Dirk off guard, which was strange and disconcerting. Normally nothing got by him, nothing surprised him, he was a tactician, knew the patterns and logic of every possible scenario. Except apparently for situations that weren’t operating on logic, and Jake was playing to his strength of being utterly unpredictable. 

“Oof,” he felt the wind knock out of him as the ground rose up to meet him, and he tried to get his bearings. The strategies he went to on reflex for this scenario suddenly felt worthless: he wasn’t armed, so any tactics he had regarding swordplay were out the window, and the last time he’d grappled with another sentient being... 

Well, he’d lost his head. Literally. Kill or be killed. That was what he knew. 

Neither of those things were an option, and he found himself in a position he was not necessarily familiar with: He didn’t know what to do. 

Dirk wasn’t sure how to proceed without doing Jake serious physical harm, and in realizing this as he coughed to himself on the grass, he hesitated, fighting down a deep-seated panic. 

A frown was already starting to crease Jake’s brow even as he snatched first one of Dirk’s wrists, then another. He pinned them to the grass on either side of them and used his legs to hold his thighs in place and...that was it. He’d won. Unless Dirk got really clever and, like, bent hard to kick him on the head or something, but he didn’t think even that much was possible for the guy, as Jake easily had the upper hand weight-wise. 

But it felt off. That...was it? His frown deepened. No, that had been way too easy, Jake realized, and as the knowledge set in, something else was emerging. Something cold and miserable and hard to understand. His teeth set as he reared himself up onto his arms and looked down at Strider, with his gorgeously messed up hair and his thick muscles and black glasses and perfectly neutral tiny pout. 

“You’re holding back.” Jake said, flatly, practically snatching his hands away from Dirk’s wrists. Suddenly the idea of scrums didn’t whet his appetite much, and he got off his boyfriend as easily as he’d mounted him--no resistance or rebuttal, physical or verbal or otherwise. If he wasn’t into this idea, Jake thought bitterly, it sure would’ve been nice if he’d said so before he’d let Jake drag him out all the way here just to make him feel like an idiot.   
He didn’t wait for an answer as he started to walk off, frustrated anger and shame practically exploding in his chest. It was always a damn rollercoaster, with Strider. 

Dirk had recognized Jake’s expression as an all-too familiar ‘you fucked up’ frown, but the accusation had him straight up bewildered. He got to his feet, dusting grass off his shirt, and made to follow Jake. “No, I…” he had no idea how to express exactly what had just happened, what his thought process had been, he’d done what he always did with an intrusive thought: clamped down on that shit harder than a bear trap on a hiker’s leg, dredging it back up was going to take mental excavation worthy of Jake’s much-beloved Doctor Croft. “... Didn’t expect you to try the same thing twice is all.” It sounded like a lie, even though it wasn’t, sounded like he was making an excuse, trying to soften the blow to his friend’s ego. Fuck. 

“The least you could do is not patronize my intelligence on top of my skill, Dirk!” Jake called over his shoulder. Against his impulses he let the motion twirl him back around to face Dirk, instead of doing what he wanted to and just descending back into the forest and away away away. For better or worse, he was going to continue being pissed off about this, and he knew nobody would be happy with a fresh batch of their drama. He knew Dirk wouldn’t be happy with it either, but then, neither was he. May as well get it over with here--the whole point HAD been to come fight, after all. 

 

 

“I know better than anybody how sharp your reflexes are. There’s no way I could have just grabbed your hands out from under you like that unless you’d let me, momentary surprise or no.” He tried to wait for the fact to just settle in the air between them, but the flimsy excuse had gotten under his skin deeper than he’d realized, and the next biting quip came fast. Like spitting out bile. “The fact that you think me too dense to pick up on this isn’t doing you any favors, by the way.” 

 

He was probably being unfair, he knew it, but damn. Just as he’d worked up the confidence to suggest this, just as he’d started to really think Dirk--all his friends, really--did actually think highly of him, and now suddenly this. At least being angry was better than what he felt like doing, which was starting to cry. 

_Pathetic, aren’t you._ Those old mean thoughts, chiming in again. Usually of late it had been Dirk who chased them away for him, but well, now Jake could see where that had got him. He’d get them under control later, he was getting better at that at least. For now though they had free reign of his noggin.

Dirk felt like the world was falling out from under him, this had gone beyond pear-shaped, the shape of this situation was approaching some kind of fruit that didn’t even exist in paradox space. “That isn’t what happened,” he said, his tone rising to bite as hard as Jake’s. “Fuck, I just…” He pressed his hand over his mouth, still reeling. 

_I didn’t want to hurt you._

It didn’t sound good, he knew that, but he also knew it was the truth, and that was as good a place as any to start. He took another hesitant step towards Jake, hands out towards him, unsure how to progress. How did he explain a fundamental difference in worldviews? How did he quantify or qualify his mental state? His inability to separate fighting from true violence, from death? 

Dirk Strider had two modes, calculate and kill, and neither of those were compatible with a friendly scrap with Jake English. Failure, bitter and hollow, gnawed at his insides. Just one more way that he couldn’t be someone Jake wanted or needed, how had he convinced himself that Jake would take pity on him after everything he’d put him through…

He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, and sighed. However it sounded, the truth was the only way out. “... I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Jake thought he’d been angry before, but the admission made him dizzy and he thought he was seeing red. “So. Do you mean my body right now, or my feelings?” He pressed. He wasn’t being very forgiving about this, and he knew it. _He’s trying to be honest_ , some better voice said in his head, but it was quiet and impotent under the loud drone of **NOT GOOD ENOUGH NOT GOOD ENOUGH NOT GOOD ENOUGH**. He noticed his glasses were dirty and felt a pang of self-loathing that he had almost started to forget about. What was the old saying? Old habits die hard? “I’d like to know whether it’s just my competence that’s in doubt, or my character.”

Dirk felt his jaw tighten along with his fists, sucked in a breath. He deserved that, of course he did, he deserved everything Jake ever threw at him, why had he thought this could work? Sure things had been going well but it was like his entire ethos as a person had just been lying beneath the surface, waiting for the opportune moment to rise up and destroy everything he’d tried to carefully build. 

“Neither,” he said. “Nothing about you is in fucking doubt, Jake, this is all me here, okay? I’m…” he grit his teeth, didn’t know where the fuck to even start. Starting was better than silence at least, maybe somewhere in the salad of his words he’d be able to fish out some meaning. “Not used to sparring. Friendly sparring I mean.” He swallowed. “This is the first time I’ve tried to fight someone I wasn’t trying to straight up kill.” 

Jake didn’t immediately have a good answer to that. Instead he just went on scowling at Dirk, petulant and furious while his brain worked on providing one. But it didn’t. Instead, what it came up with was logic. He supposed it was true enough--Jake had gotten to spar with the Brobot, but what had Dirk gotten experience wise in that department? He tried to revise their histories and came up empty, his anger softening somewhat almost instantly. 

“...Okay.” He said, cautiously. Trying to just listen, trying to drown out the voice ( **WEAK SLOW BURDEN STUPID WHAT KIND OF MAN** ) with reason, or failing that at least compassion. Of course Dirk would be wary about hurting him--the danger of breaking things was practically his number one concern. “...Then. Why agree to the venture at all?” he offered, trying to listen instead of lash out. 

Dirk spread his hands, a helpless gesture. “I… didn’t know.” Hearing the words come from his mouth made him feel disgusted at himself. He was Dirk fucking Strider, he had a comprehensive grasp on his emotions and his mental state, that was the goddamned brand. Yet here he was, faltered and hesitant, because he didn’t know how to have a friendly wrestling match with his boyfriend that he wouldn’t unintentionally turn into a sick bloodbath. 

_That’s what happens when you destroy everything you touch._

_That’s what happens when you’re broken._

He sighed, continued. “I didn’t know this would happen,” he clarified, fighting past the ghosts in his mind. “I was all set for some friendly fucking fisticuffs or whatever the fuck this was going to be, but surprise, turns out Dirk Strider only has two modes: strategize or bloody murder.” 

 

 

“I...see.” Jake said, his hands on his hips. Now he was starting to feel a little foolish, and a lot awful for getting so snippy. “Sorry for...flying off the handle like that. My performance was fit to get some kind of accolade from the mayor, I’m sure.” 

He let the silence linger for a beat, then two. Three seemed like one too many, so instead he coughed. “Well, I mean...ok. I suppose that’s understandable, and I did get the benefit of practice and all. Would you like to call it in for the day, then, or…?” 

“No!” Dirk’s answer came out sharp, harsh, and he sucked in a breath, kicking himself. He wasn’t helping the situation. “I mean…” He took another step towards Jake, tentative. “I don’t want to ruin your sweet outdoor excursion with my bullshit. I…” he pressed his lips together. “I know this is shit you fucking love doing, I’d be some kind of sad broken garbage if I couldn’t get my shit together for a friendly scrap.” 

He attempted to smile, but accepted that it probably looked more like a grimace. Which was understandable. He was feeling less like he was pulling his shit together and more like he was falling down on the broken garbage side of the spectrum. 

Dirk’s smile was pained, miserable, and hopelessly lovely. It was a rare thing out in public like this, but as usual, Jake found himself totally at a loss for what to say in the face of it.  
Had to fight off the blush creeping up his neck and his guilt at once in favor of something productive. 

“Well...well good then, I suppose.” He said, more than a little short of breath. “If that’s all it is then this could actually be pretty easy? And before you protest about hurting me, we’re both immortal, and I don’t mind getting a little banged up so just hush and hear me out.” He said, already lifting a finger to cut Strider off from whatever long diatribe of worries he was about to spill all over him. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, order the words exactly how he wanted them. 

“How about I...I just stand here. And then I can just coach you, let you know if you go too far, and you can just experiment a little? Get used to the how-to’s of subjugating me and whatnot, yeah?” He suggested, turning his gaze Dirk-wards almost instinctually. It was hard to shake the old feeling of looking up at him for approval, even though Dirk was at least a good two inches shorter than him nowadays. 

It took Dirk a moment to push away the reflexive action of snark (subjugate him, really Jake? Phrasing, jesus fuck), but he managed, loosening up a bit. “I… guess that could work,” he said, still looking hesitant. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Jake, it was that he straight up didn’t trust himself. Immortality was a boon and a half, but lack of permadeath didn’t do dick for pain. 

Destruction doesn’t mean to be cruel, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions...

“You’ll tell me the second I go too far?” He asked, looking at Jake over the edge of his shades, indicating he was serious, deadly serious, heart attacks and cancer serious. He could only have been more serious about that statement if he’d proposed to it. 

Jake grinned at him, already starting to get excited at the prospect. Getting manhandled by Dirk--his actual boyfriend Dirk, not even a robot, a Dirk that he didn’t need to worry quite as much about and he’d never really needed to worry about his life with the tin can, either--getting manhandled by his Dirk didn’t sound half bad at all.   
“That is of course assuming you’re able, with those wiry arms of yours.” he teased. It was a lie--Dirk’s arms were noodles only compared to his own, and even then it was probably exaggerating. But he knew how to get his main guy in the spirit of something, and nothing motivated Strider like a challenge. 

He took a few steps and spread his arms and legs out wide, open, relaxed and vulnerable, as if to punctuate his commitment. 

Dirk raised his eyebrows. He recognized the comment for what it was - blatant provocation - and had no qualms taking the bait. “Wiry?” he said. “Maybe compared to the mangoes you’re smuggling in your arms, English. We aren’t all blessed with the CrockerEnglishHarleyBert physique, some of us got the weird freckled end of that stick.” He moved until he was within easy arm’s length of Jake, weighing his options. His normal attacks wouldn’t do anything, weapon or no weapon, not unless he was really going for the kill. How did he even go for anything BUT the kill, anyway? 

He answered that himself as he stared at Jake, earnest and waiting, open to helping him learn, helping him relinquish some of that iron-gripped control he needed so desperately. 

He didn’t go for the kill because it was Jake English, of course. If anyone could teach him how to fight for fun, it was him.

“Okay,” he huffed out a breath, and raised his fists. “Let’s do this.” 

He swung his left fist towards Jake’s face.


	2. Pyroclastic Surge

The blow caught him along the jaw and set his mind spinning, stars bursting and dancing behind his eyelids. He hadn’t expected a punch, and the familiar taste of copper filled his mouth immediately. His tongue danced through it as he caught himself, caught his breath, and then spat a small mouthful of blood out. 

“Not bad. Not bad at all, though you’ve certainly got much more restraint than the old Brobot.” Jake said, utterly unaware of the downright sultry edge to his voice. Had he not agreed to let Dirk figure this out, he could have caught that fist, and the urge to twist Dirk around and force him on his stomach had been a powerful one. Something twinged hard in his underpants and he smiled. 

“See? It’s not that bad at all. In a way you DO want to break something, just instead of me or anything, you just want me to give up, you see? It’s not all that bad.” His eyes were slanted with aggression but the way Dirk looked to his eyes now inspired ferocity of an entirely different kind. He really wanted those glasses off of him, and he wanted to take them. Right now. This tutorial suddenly could not be over quickly enough. 

“You just want to get me to cry for whatever domestic guardian you want me to think up. Throw up the white flag, so to speak. Restraining my limbs would generally be effective at this, I imagine, but since I’m so much stronger you may have to get clever about that.” He half sang, and he knew he was being a smartass, and he knew he was going to pay for it, and he nearly had to bite against the impatience. 

Dirk nearly faltered at the sight of the blood, but Jake rolled with it, shit, he straight up *thrived* over it. He’d always known the guy wasn’t exactly delicate or in need of a fainting couch but that was one hell of a hit to take. Dirk watched Jake watching him, the look in his eyes familiar and gripping something tight in Dirk’s chest. Jake was never more beautiful to him than when he was like this, fierce and alive, ready for a fight.

He almost hated how much he loved seeing Jake like this, how his fist had inspired this fire. He didn’t let it stop him, just as he didn’t let the hot twinge of desire in his gut keep him from darting forward, less hesitant now. He tried not to think about the idea of Jake flat on his back on the grass, pinning him hard and straddling his chest, taking for himself the spoils of a hard-fought battle. If this was friendly sparring, he wanted to do a hell of a lot more of it. 

Dirk focused and swung, feinting up with his right hand but then ducking down, sweeping with his leg in a kick in the hope of knocking Jake off balance, leveling the playing field.

Jake’s legs went sprawling up into the sky as he fell hard onto his waist and elbow with a grunt. Suddenly he was looking up at Dirk, getting an eyeful of black denim crotch. When he looked up, legs spread, he got pale skin and flaring red hair sticking up familiarly, and oh yes, now the nostalgia was strong enough he could almost wonder if this was a dream bubble. Except this was still different--not nearly so stressful and harrowing, mostly because the boy poised above him was his boyfriend, and because if he really wanted he could tackle him to the ground right now and engage in a wrestle of a decidedly different kind.

He didn’t want to do that yet. Instead he looked up at Dirk, trying to take all of him in through the sunlight’s glare. “You’re doing plenty well from this vantage, Strider, but I could still do plenty to turn the tables from down here!” He called, downright taunting him now. “Surely this wasn’t the extent of your plans? What now?” 

Dirk felt the tension in his muscles, his blood pounding in his ears. He could calculate the most efficient course of action at this point, grabbing, twisting, snapping, tearing…

But it was Jake. Not someone he needed to eliminate, just Jake, and that meant he had to adapt his strategy. Ducking back, he settled onto the balls of his feet in a crouch, staring, considering. “It’d hardly be sportsmanlike for me to kick you while you’re down,” he said. 

Dirk stood up straighter and reached out, offering Jake a hand to pull him up. “Better to kick you when you’re up instead, what d’you say?” 

 

 

Jake huffed. “Well, I was hoping you’d come down here and try some grappling, but yes I suppose it is always smart to pace oneself.” He smacked his hand into Dirk’s hard, leaving a delicious sting in his palm as he pulled himself up and let himself barrel into Dirk. He was doing pretty well, restraint and all. He pushed into Dirk as he caught his balance, let his face settle into the nook between his shoulder and neck for a moment and took in the warmth and scent of this guy he’d known forever, and who in many ways he was just getting to know.

Then he let himself roll backwards, let inertia let him carry him further away. Back to his spot to await Dirk’s next move. “See? This isn’t too bad, right?”

Jake’s sudden proximity didn’t throw him off completely, but it did draw stark attention to little details Dirk loved to fixate on when it came to Jake: how warm he always was, how he always carried the scent of jungle and tomb with him regardless of his destination, how the skin around his eyes crinkled just so when he was cheerful, how his grip was always firm, deliciously so, and his mind wandered to the way Jake’s hands felt when they were alone and not baking under the hot sun. The way his fingers were always sure, always strong, never stuttering over his skin but always fluid, graceful in a way one wouldn’t expect from Jake at first glance. 

Dirk had far more experience with glances beyond that first, however, and he was giving a few of them now as he eyed Jake warily, assessing his next move. Incapacitating him would have been simple, but he was here to learn something new, to understand how this kind of violence could be playful (could be foreplay?), could be a dialogue, not something soaked in blood and regret. 

“No,” he said. “Not bad at all.” 

He darted forward, flash-stepping around so that he was behind Jake, and grabbed one of his arms, twisting it behind him and holding him in place. 

Jake hissed under his breath, the sharp pang of pressure and pain in his arm suddenly freezing him solid. Well, except for the immediate throb squeezing him down under. He tried to move a little but the only result he managed to come up with was a short, high cry--pain? arousal? Sheer impatience that he be allowed to rebuff with blows of his own? They’d hardly even gotten started and Jake already felt fit to break. 

“Now that’s more like it.” He managed through short breath. He twisted his neck and upper back hard, just barely managed enough to get a look at Dirk’s face from below and to the side, but that was all he needed. This was gonna be so good, he was going to die trying not to tell Roxy about it. “A couple more restraints like that one, and you might even have me calling for Daddy.” 

Dirk’s eyebrows jumped up, his grip still tight even if he was now thoroughly distracted. “‘Daddy’? Really? Didn’t think you had that particular kink, dude.” He smirked, bringing his other arm up under Jake’s and wrapping it under his armpit, holding him in a standing pin, immobile. “Can’t say it’s ever been my particular first choice, but shit,” he leaned forward, resting his chin on Jake’s shoulder, whispering in his ear: 

“You win this match and I’ll let you call me whatever you want, English.” 

“That mean you’re comfortable with starting, then? Getting less scared of the whole idea?” Jake probed, unreasonably excited. God, fucking finally, he was beginning to think he was going to lose it completely. More to please Dirk with the irony than anything, he spoke up. “This is really, actually happening, isn’t it? I almost can’t believe it.” 

He couldn’t really help trying to fall backwards into Dirk’s grip, Dirk’s heft. Trying to drape his head along Dirk’s neck, press their temples together. He knew how scary this must be for Dirk, knew how freaked out he still was about the whole thing with Dave’s Bro. He really was awfully brave for even daring to try and make this work for him. Awfully loyal. 

A memory echoes back from nowhere, from everywhere. Not of Dirk, but the AR. 

_What does this simple, loyal brobot have to do?_

Well, be the real Dirk, was apparently the answer. And if he was going to be so tender about the whole thing, then Jake had wanted the assurance he was allowed to touch back. Now he had both, and it was exactly what he’d dreamed of. Maybe even better. 

“For a guy who’s about to get his ass kicked you sure are excited,” Dirk knew what Jake was doing, felt him shift to let Dirk support his weight, his head resting against his, and he burned to grip him tight, spin him around, lose himself in Jake’s taste and his smell and his sound. 

Instead he made a noise that sounded a bit like ‘hup’ and carefully skipped backwards into a controlled fall, bringing Jake down with him onto the grass and adjusting his grip so he had his boyfriend in a headlock. 

“Augh!” Was all Jake managed as he landed on the side of his rump and his now aching arm. Dirk was holding him uncomfortably tight and he was sprawled and awkward and getting sweaty, but that wasn’t so bad because so was Dirk. He’d mocked his arms earlier but smothering his neck and face like this they felt positively enormous, and as solid as rock. 

He put his good hand up to Dirk’s arm and tried to work his fingers in, then started smacking at it when he couldn’t. “Hey, hold on, did we start already!? This is cheating! Cheating, I say!”

“Did you expect another friendly countdown?” He shifted his arms so it was less of a headlock but still firm, and then got ambitious, moving his hips with a wiggle so he could kick off and wrap his legs around Jake’s waist, clinging on like he was the shell to Jake’s turtle. “Does sparring come with a monocle and some spats now, pip fucking pip old chap?” He was grinning wide now, teeth almost bared and menacing, his breath coming in heavy gasps. He couldn’t deny that he wanted things to take a slightly less sportsmanlike turn, but he also knew that Jake was all in favor of that shift. 

 

Jake didn’t bother trying to crack wise. If this party was started then it was getting, as Strider himself would say, Mother Fucking Started. And wonder of wonders, the tactician had made a misstep. His good arm was still free. He could work with that.

He lunged his arm backwards, grabbing at the top of Dirk’s leg--no purchase there. His ass? Nothing to hold in the first place, let alone anything vulnerable. He bucked backwards, trying to rub his back along Dirk’s crotch, distract him with that kind of stimulus. Didn’t seem to work too well. Get his shoe off and tickle his foot? Too many goddamn straps--Dirk was nothing if not prepared. 

Then, in a flash, the answer. Stunningly obvious and outrageously exciting to boot, he couldn’t help but grin, the taste of iron stinging his tongue anew. It could go wrong. But if Dirk snapped his neck by accident he could only stay dead for a little while, and after all what was a contest without a little risk?

He threw his hand upwards, over his shoulder, just fast enough to catch Dirk square in the scalp. He grabbed a fistful of hair deep at the roots and pulled Dirk forwards hard, forcing his head over his own shoulder. He couldn’t move his neck, but he could manage to stick his tongue out far enough to give Dirk’s cheek a sloppy lick he was sure would bother him. This was finally getting really fun. 

The sudden burst of pain, delicious and hot, made Dirk cry out in surprise, and he froze, feeling almost as if his limbs were made of lead, like he was sinking and his brain was going into shutdown mode. Everything he’d been afraid of felt strangely banished from his mind, his fear of hurting Jake distant and nebulous. 

Jake’s tongue on his face barely registered, all Dirk could think about was the fingers tangled tight in his hair and pulling, holding him in place looking over Jake’s shoulder. His knees buckled a little. He wasn’t a stranger to the border between pleasure and pain but this was different, it was somehow so much *more*, like a direct hotwired line to the core of him, past the insecurities and calculations, past the overthinking and the desperate machinations. He felt like his skin was burning, could feel a curl of heat in his stomach and a shift in his pants that he’d normally describe ironically as tectonic. There wasn’t room for irony here, not with Jake’s fingers tugging hard at his scalp, irony was out of the question with a pain this sweet, this sincere. He let out a gasp, soft and choked, that could probably be perceived as a moan to the discerning ear. 

He knew one thing and one thing only: he didn’t want Jake to stop. 

Jake blinked, surprised. He had been braced for Dirk’s limbs to tighten, not loosen. The sudden tender softness reminded him of Brobot once again, the weird feelings it’s Novice setting had often brought up this time. Only instead of burning hot Dirk was just deeply warm, and more importantly, he couldn’t sprout extra arms to sextuple wreck him with. 

But this surely wouldn’t last forever, which meant he had to move. With his bad hand he dug into Dirk’s arm again and twisted at the same time as he let his legs give out under him, letting them both fall on their backs--on Dirk’s back--heavily without letting his grip on his hair relax.

Dirk was starting to feel boneless, an automatic reaction even though his brain was screaming at him to fight back, to rethink his strategy, to come up with a new method moving forward that prevented his apparently highly sensitive scalp from coming under attack. Logic and reason dictated he re-evaluate and try to get the upper hand, follow a path that gave him the advantage. 

Dirk bid logic and reason the fuck goodbye as Jake kept his hand firmly clenched in his hair. Apparently he did have another mode, and that mode was ‘pliant’. ‘Relaxed’. ‘Submissive’. Other adjectives wandered through his mind as he loosened his grip on Jake, letting the other maintain his sturdy grip on him. 

He didn’t know what was happening to him. He didn’t care. He wanted more. 

They landed with a hard thud that made Jake worry for a moment, but he took no damage and if Dirk was winded from the impact then it only gave him a chance to take the win. He tore himself free of Dirk’s grasp and bounced himself around in the air, letting go of his hair for only the most fleeting of moments. He was almost annoyed it was this easy again but once he was on his knees and looking down at Dirk it subsided, his curiosity sated. 

Dirk looked positively dazed, breathing harsh and heavy. Jake hadn’t the foggiest what the fuck was going on, but it wasn’t Dirk playing dead again. This was different. He wrapped his knees over Dirk’s thighs, locking them in place once again and grabbed first one of Dirk’s hands, then another with his own weakened hand. “Got you.” He whispered, almost a question. Tentatively, unsure if it was really the cause, Jake slowly disentangled his fingers from Dirk’s hair.

“Did that really knock you so far out of your senses, Strider?” he asked. “If so, that’s one sour fucking puppy of a weakness.”

Dirk blinked slowly under Jake’s gaze, suddenly profoundly aware of his boyfriend’s weight on top of him, how he’d pinned him to the ground with just one hand, the injured one, and he had to resist the urge to say ‘no, don’t stop’ as Jake pulled the hand out of his hair. He huffed out a sigh, gave Jake a sheepish smile. “What can I say? Seems like if you grab me in the right spot, you make me fucking weak.” 

“Well I can’t say I’m sorry to hear it, but unless we figure something out this is going to make these little duels of ours a tad too easy. Maybe a hat with a shirt printed on it...” Jake trailed off, starting to mumble, but with a smile on his lips. He’d won. He’d actually beat Strider, and it hadn’t even been that difficult. He could feel the pedestal he kept him under crumble, just a little, but that just meant they were getting closer--working to meet eye to eye for good. It made him feel something warm and glowing inside. 

 

 

He didn’t really think about it. It was as simple as the pull of the blood in his mouth and the ache in his arm and Dirk’s lips as he laid there pinned and helpless, calling him. Their lips met and all Jake could think was last time they’d kissed here it had been Dirk’s blood filling his mouth, and it had damn near broken his heart to taste it but this was better, downright Good even. It felt right somehow, like repaying a debt, to let his own blood seep into Dirk’s mouth as he invaded and took his victory’s due. 

This was more like what he’d imagined in his fantasies before that little episode though, at least on the margins. He lingered long enough that when he finally pulled away it was because he needed to breathe, and he enjoyed the small tinge of scarlet seeping down Dirk’s cheek at his leisure. He took the opportunity to take his glasses, as well, banishing them into his own sylladex for the rest of the day. The rest of the night, too, hopefully. Deep orange burned up at him, making his stomach do a familiar little jig. 

“So...Round one goes to me, then. You’re gonna have to get pretty clever about the hair thing unless you’d interested in watching all of the Lord of the Ring movies in marathon, Strider.” He wasn’t spectacularly serious about the threat--he had other plans for tonight--but he wanted Dirk motivated. 

Jake’s kiss left him breathless, but that was a reaction he was used to, one he felt every time their lips met. “Not even you could make it through all three of those movies in one sitting,” he said, voice a little hoarse as he squinted in the sudden sunlight. “And if there’s one thing I am, it’s clever.” 

He pushed up against Jake’s hands and then veered sharply to the left, catching Jake off guard and rolling him so that the two of them tipped over and he took the momentum. They ended up with their positions reversed, Dirk on top of Jake after taking advantage of being quick on the draw. 

Dirk looked down at Jake, his face in a wide grin, and he leaned down to return the kiss that had been so carefully bestowed upon him just moments ago. Jake still tasted coppery and sharp, still hadn’t caught his breath, but Dirk pressed on, keen and eager for more contact, more of Jake’s tongue and his lips and the way his hands felt as Dirk held them pinned against the grass, his hips tilted sharply down to hold Jake in place. He felt warm, but it wasn’t the sun that made him feel like he was burning, all he felt was that intense need overriding every other thought and action. 

At this point it was a battle of wills, and one of them would have to give first. Jake had the advantage of experience when it came to a friendly spar, but when it came to the art of seduction, he could not hope to beat Dirk Strider. He was simply the best there was. 

Jake blinked, genuinely stunned he’d been so foolish. He struggled against Dirk’s hands and his legs but all he got for his trouble was making Dirk pointedly aware of the tent in his pants, and himself just as aware of what Dirk’s balls felt like on his boner through four layers of fabric. It didn’t exactly do wonders for his tactical mind to discover that little sensation. He fought and wiggled some more but there just wasn’t an inch of give anywhere, and damnit, round two couldn’t actually be over that quickly but it seemed like it was. 

 

“Blast is all, fair enough then, I give. Looks like it’s winner take all for round three.” Jake conceded, only half as frustrated as he was turned on. He hoped eventually they’d be able to do this for genuine honest fun, instead of turning it into a big sexy courtship ritual, but at least he was actually being given a part in those now instead of playing spectator to Dirk’s performance. In a way it felt like blurring the lines between both their interests, a genuine blending, and that was appealing enough on it’s own. 

“Now get off, come on. No more tricky surprises, from either of us. A final showdown between equals should always be a good and honest all out brawl.” He whined, fussing under Dirk’s weight with renewed fervor. It felt really hot down here all of a sudden. Like, the air was. Was that normal, when he and Dirk got close like this? It was familiar, but still, Jake felt something slightly off--something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

Dirk gave Jake a smile that was all teeth and released him, up on his feet in an instant and stepping away, giving him space and raising his arms in a combative stance. “No surprises,” he agreed, giving Jake a nod, his eyes narrowed and serious but still full of something that smoldered. “Just a brawl.” 

He raised one hand and made a gesture, crooking his fingers in Jake’s direction to incite him, to encourage him. However this ended, he knew it wouldn’t end before Jake was satisfied they had fulfilled the terms of their original agreement. “Come at me.” 

Jake clambered onto his feet in a jiffy, stretched and spun out his bad arm. There were an awful lot of parts of him that were sore now, actually. The aches were sharpening and enjoyable, though, and that sense of heat was only increasing the pressure it seemed to exert on the air. He was sweating--hard enough that he could probably use a towel. But Dirk didn’t care, because Dirk was the best. 

He bounced from foot to foot, stretching his back out after all the kneeling and laying he’d done. He wanted to be in top form for this one. Dirk simply waited, expectant and borderline mocking, a near repeat of the pose he’d adopted at the start of all this. They’d come so far so quickly, Jake marveled, remembering how angry he’d been just a little while ago. How hurt. 

Didn’t matter now, but it was satisfying to think about. They really were improving at this...whatever it was. Everything. And now here he was, fulfilling one of his dearest childhood dreams. Funny how life worked out. 

He stalked around Dirk like a predator, measuring and patient as he let himself enjoy the juxtaposed memory. Here. Right here. His foot landed on the exact spot where once upon a time purple goat blood had stained the grass, evidence of his Brobot--his bro--coming to save him. Dirk really was something else. Something special. And thinking about that made him want to bring Dirk closer, made him want to give chase. 

Made him want to challenge him, a little. 

 

He bent at the knee and launched himself at Dirk, charging one more time. Only this time, instants before he slammed right into him--or, more likely, got dodged and utterly trounced--he caught himself on his heels, diverting the speed and inertia into a smashing right hook that he put everything into, aiming for Dirk’s side. 

Dirk made to dodge but he’d been expecting a tackle, not a punch, and he grunted as Jake’s fist made contact with his ribs. Twisting, he went down on his back but he used the momentum to roll backwards and get back on his feet, wheezing a bit with pain but still raring for the fight. He responded by moving lightning quick, darting forward and swinging with one fist lazily, easily, toward’s Jake’s face, knowing it wouldn’t be hard to block. 

It gave him time to swing his other fist up and under so it jammed into Jake’s gut. 

Jake gasped, trying to catch the air the impact forced out of him. No go, but his arms wrapped around Dirk’s instinctively and he could feel opportunity surging once again. He held on for dear life and twisted backwards, letting himself fall back and using everything he had to swing Dirk overhead and onto his back. As Dirk’s arm pressed into his face his lips reacted, more muscle than thought, and he planted a kiss on the side of his elbow.

The world shifted, tilted, spun, and Dirk coughed instinctively as he landed on his back, staring up at the sky, at Jake, breathless and shaken. He’d felt Jake’s arms grip him, felt his lips graze his arm, and he responded by grabbing at the other’s arms, dragging him down, grappling with him in a kind of tense struggle that felt more like tension than strife. 

He stared up into Jake’s eyes, still breathing heavy and uneven, and made the attempt to right the world, to loosen himself from the impending pin, to dodge and distract and get away. 

Except he didn’t want to get away, not really. He didn’t want to continue, not just for the sake of a win. He wasn’t sure he could, and for once in his life, perhaps for the first time, the thought of not being the best at something didn’t cut him to the core. 

It wasn’t letting Jake win if he deserved it, if he had bested him, and Jake English had bested Dirk in so many ways, so many fashions, laid him out and dragged him open, wrenched the truth of Dirk from his hidden confines, insisted and probed until Dirk had no choice but to give in, to willingly submit. 

Jake’s victory went beyond friendly sparring, and every attempt he made to bring Dirk out and into the light of his hope was a winning scenario for both of them. Even as he struggled, Dirk knew he was fighting a losing battle. 

If this was losing, Dirk was ready to be defeated again and again. 

Jake had genuinely expected to be hit back for that one. It had been too clever by half, and he's been sure even as he grabbed and hooked himself over Dirk, even as Dirk fought him off half-heartedly, that this was all part of his plan. That he's predicted and accounted for him and now he was about to make his move and wreck his ass.

But Strider did no such thing, and suddenly he was on top and neutralizing him again. Dirk's head lolled from side to side, dizzy and lost--probably still shocked from the impact. He kept struggling, as if he still didn't realize he's already lost. 

And that was when it hit Jake. That this really was Dirk--no, wait. Not exactly. That brobot hadn't been exactly Dirk? Maybe closer, still off.

Oh. Suddenly it hit him fully. So that was it. It filled him as he gazed down at Dirk, sweaty and vacant, his hair all tousled up. The realization that Dirk really was...human. Touchable. Not an ideal to continually fail to live up to, but a boy who was his best friend, powerful and brilliant but only flesh and blood. 

The knowledge made him dizzy, intoxicated him. Made his vision dim and focus until Dirk’s skin was all he could see, and he'd done it, he’d beaten him and now it was time to claim his prize. 

His lips met Dirk at the neck, sucking and biting as he let go of Dirk’s hands and let them start wandering elsewhere instead. 

 

The gasp Dirk let out was high, shaky and reflective of his frayed nerves, the fact that he was utterly overwhelmed by all of this, the feel of Jake’s lips on his neck, his hands exploring swiftly southward. He reached up instinctively, wrapping his arms around Jake’s waist, pulling him close, the adrenaline fueling him, he didn’t want to take his time with this, he wanted Jake to lay waste to him, to treat him like one of his tombs. Pleas rose and died on his lips, trite and cliche, replaced with quiet moans, rising gasps.

“Jake…” his whisper was barely audible, but with his lips practically mashed against Jake’s ear, he knew his companion could hear him, even if his name was all he could manage. “ _*Jake*..._ ” 

“Dirk.” he answered, short and intense. As much due to impulse as to watch Dirk’s eyes squeeze shut, his teeth curl over his bottom lip, to feel him squirm under him. He grabbed at Dirk’s chest, his waist, let his strong hand wander back up to into his hair and tease--clutching but gentler this time, not the animal brutality of before, despite the fact that Jake was pretty sure he knew what Strider wanted. 

Heat pressed up into him from Dirk’s body as his aching hand crept up into Dirk’s shirt, forcing it upwards against friction and physics and gravity. He found Dirk’s nipple and squeezed just shy of truly harsh. He wanted to press his own chest closer but not yet, they weren’t ready, and he growled in frustration at the cruel pranks of physical reality. But whatever, mouthful of Strider’s skin between his teeth, handful of Strider hair in his fist, pinch of Strider between his thumb and forefinger, this was good enough for now. 

He let his hips buck downwards and press his crotch hard against Dirk and he was so fucking hard, so huge under those pretty tight jeans of his Jake was surprised they didn’t tear right open. For that matter, Jake was in much the same predicament. 

Dirk groaned at every sensation, aching with stimulation, with desperate need as his fingers played at the fabric of Jake’s shirt. Jake’s hand playing through his hair made him shudder and let out a keening wail, and he was surprised at his own lack of restraint. What was it that made the feel of Jake’s hands gripping him like that so intense, made his nerves light up and his brain start to short circuit? 

It was impossible to think about anything but Jake’s lips and teeth on his neck, his hands wandering and grabbing, teasing and probing, sending fireworks across his nervous system with every tug of Dirk’s hair, every pinch of his nipple between his thumb and forefinger, every shift of his hips meeting Dirk’s with delicious pressure. He felt his cock twinge and he groaned louder, longer, needier, shuddering again and jerking his hips up in response, wanting contact for their skin, wanting purchase for his hands on Jake’s back and chest, not his shorts, his shirt. 

He broke away from Dirk, denied himself the pleasure of his stimulus, but only long enough to tear the awful fucking fabric off them both. There--his pale skin and taut, tiny nipples, his broad and strong chest, laid bare just for him. He fell down again, this time crotch and chest both, pressing his hairy chest against Dirk’s barren one. The sensation of heat and pressure surrounded him, left imprints on his belly and his nipples from Dirk’s body, on his back and legs from the atmosphere up above. Now this was fucking perfect. Heat and pressure. Heat and pressure! Building and building all over, squeezing him until he felt like he would pop. 

“Dirk.” He repeated, and this time it was all impulse, all visceral need. “Dirk. Dirk! Dirk!” He breathed it like a litany, against his neck between bites, against his earlobe, against his cheek and the corner of his lips, pressed the name into him wherever he could like a baptism. Like a branding. Marking him as well and truly Dirk, absolutely real. Amazing, how even years after they’d really met he still couldn’t quite believe the physicality of him. Amazing, how even as he felt the pedestal he kept Dirk upon in his heart crumbling completely, he worried he’d forget the feeling. 

The hand he wasn't keeping in Dirk’s hair--boy, the guy really seemed to like that--suddenly found its way to the belt on his jeans. His fingers fumbled there, struggling and failing and finally, miraculously succeeding at undoing the clasp and granting him access to the button and zipper of his jeans. Without even thinking about it, Jake undid them both and then slid his hand onto the hidden skin beneath his cute little orange boxers.

Dirk heard the repeated echo of his own name in his ears as Jake spoke, his voice powerful, overwhelming. Every sense was heightened by the needle-sharp stinging of his scalp, the weight of Jake’s body on his, his hands moving lower, closer. 

“Shit,” he breathed as Jake’s hand slipped into his pants, touched him, fingers skirting the border between torment and relief as they hovered just above his cock. “Jake… god…” He tilted his hips up, trying to close that gap himself. It was like the grip Jake had on his hair had broken down all of his defenses, all of his willingness to restrain himself and continue the delicate dance he was used to, the steps he understood. 

This was uncharted territory, but Dirk was not afraid, only eager, curious, understanding what Jake meant when he spoke of his taste for adventure, the urge toward the unexplored. Jake English made him want to be an adventurer, made him look on the new and unexplained with optimistic curiosity instead of skeptical distance, of suspicion. As Jake lingered over Dirk’s stomach, brushing lightly just north of his dick, Dirk moaned deep in the back of his throat and pressed his mouth to Jake’s neck, fighting the uphill battle of trying to give as good as he was getting. 

Jake wanted to touch more, wanted to press downwards but Dirk’s jeans were uncomfortably tight and what he really wanted was room to play in, so he didn’t press it, despite Dirk’s petulance on the matter. But there was something else. That sense familiarity was still there, still increasing, and it was starting to throw him off. If it had turned into full-blown deja vu he would’ve been convinced he was in a dreambubble, actually. 

But it was a difference of kind, not of degree. This was real, a unique moment. So much like his duels with the Brobot, but so different from then at the same time. And this heat was familiar too, but from some other moment, one he was having trouble placing as his brain worked in the dark of his closed eyes, oiled by Dirk’s saliva and sweat and absolutely outrageous amount of hair product. Sensations sharpening him but also distracting, making it harder to pin down, making him almost want to pull away except for the surety that if he did he would never remember, never--

_There was stuff i wanted to say._   
_To the real him i mean._

He gasped into Dirk’s mouth and tore himself free, let go of Dirk’s hair and wrenched his hand out of his pants. He almost sat up, too, except he thought that kind of sudden distance would scare Dirk and that was the last thing he wanted, so he let himself rest on his forearms and knees over him instead. “Wait, wait chum, hold on a second!” He mouthed off, not bothering to wait for Dirk’s response. He knew what that heat was now but it wasn’t scary, not in the slightest. It was kind of perfect, actually. Maybe dreams really did come true, if you believed in them hard enough. 

He forced himself onto one arm and used the one he’d had in Dirk’s pants a moment ago to cup the side of his face instead. Pushed gently so Dirk’s eyes would be forced to meet his, dead center. So bright and big, like the sunset. His red hair sprawled out around him messy and wild and totally unlike him but in a way that looked good juxtaposed against his sharp, angled chin.

“Beautiful.” Jake sighed, almost a whisper. He hadn’t meant to say it but he was glad he did. He could feel his heart beating fast all of a sudden, all nervous excitement, thundering like a stampede of hooves, like screaming rain and lightning. “You’re absolutely beautiful, man. Have I ever told you that?”

Dirk blinked, eyes locked on Jake’s so hard he thought he might drown in emerald green. He couldn’t quite fathom why Jake had stopped going for the gold, untangled his hand, but the way he stared had Dirk suddenly utterly weak, a kind of emotional bonelessness to match the way that first grip and tug on his hair had absolutely wrecked him. 

When Jake called Dirk ‘beautiful’, he thought he was going to actually melt into a puddle right there, evaporate away from the searing heat of their meeting gaze. The words sank into him, curled around his insides, settled into his bones, everything suddenly more vibrant, more alive, more real and true, because it was Jake saying it, the boy who always believed, affirming him, confirming him. 

Dirk never saw anything in the mirror other than a human disaster, but Jake’s certainty, his intensity, the unfiltered rawness of his expression, made Dirk a believer. 

If Jake said it, then it was the truth. If Jake believed, there was no way Dirk couldn’t. 

He swallowed, seeing Jake was waiting for an answer, and he shifted a little so that his hands gripped Jake’s waist with a little less ferocity, relenting not with hesitancy but with a mind towards the curious. What was Jake doing? “Uh… I… don’t think so,” he said, his voice a little hoarse, his lips cracked and parched. “Not that I can remember anyway.” 

“There’s other stuff I wanted to say, too. Before we started dating, I mean.” he continued, too quickly. Like he’d been waiting for the answer, which he was. Like he’d been waiting to get to say this for years, which was also true, come to think of it. Hard to believe it had been that long since the game had changed everything forever. The earth shook, but Jake didn’t pay it any mind. 

“There was so MUCH I wanted to say, I guess. I planned it out in my head over and over, all these reasons I had, I wanted it to be so nice and special before everything happened and suddenly we were just an item? You understand?” He dug through his head, bordering on frustrated. It would come soon, he could feel it, and he didn’t want to let the moment pass. 

“I guess,” he spat, more to force himself to start than anything. “I guess I really just wanted to say thanks.” The words kept coming too fast, embarrassment suddenly taking over. He had to work to slow himself down, give the moment the pacing it deserved. “For...always looking out for me, and helping me out. And being my friend. And well, you know, just...everything.”

Jake paused. Licked his lips. Started again. 

“After Grandma died…I was always so scared. Of like… The jungle, the future, whether anyone would ever find me… Just. Everything. All the things that could happen.” he pressed. The ground shook again and again he ignored it--now it was flowing, he was almost done, he could almost taste it. 

“I never really felt actually good about anything until I started talking to all of you. And...and I never really felt safe except when I was talking to you, specifically. When things were good, anyway. And they weren’t always! But they were a lot of the time, and now they are all the time, and...shoot, I’m losing my train of thought again.” 

Jake clenched his fist in the grass where he was holding himself up and imagined he was seeing purple blood in the dirt beneath them. Ridiculous. This wasn’t the right spot, and from the Earth’s perspective it had been eons. But it helped anyway. 

 

“You just… knew stuff, all the time. Like, what was true and what wasn’t. And what to do when things needed to get done. Or ways to make things better! Like with the Brobot, so I ONLY had to be scared of getting beat up instead of eaten, ha ha.” He hoped that sounded as cheerful and honest as he’d meant it, but didn’t wait to find out. Almost there.

“If you believe something, I know I can believe it, too. That’s what I mean to say, I suppose. Like, I know it’s safe, or it’s good, or it’s true. That’s important to me, and that’s why...that’s why I wanted to be with you. That’s what I wanted to tell you, before the ball got rolling, but I never got the chance.” 

Dirk stared up into Jake’s eyes, took in the absolute earnestness of him, his words and his expression, the genuine deep and pervading love that poured out of him with every syllable. He blinked once, slow, trying to process the torrent of information he’d just been bombarded with. He relished in it, drinking in everything Jake had to say just as he had eagerly drawn in every line of green text when the two of them had been continents and centuries apart. He had always consumed Jake’s words like a man dying of thirst, desperate for more of what he had to say like it was all that kept him breathing, kept him alive. 

It had been, sometimes, but it had taken Dirk years to admit that even to himself, let alone anybody else. Hard to deny it now as he lay on the grass, feeling the ground shake beneath them (was Jake doing that? He wasn’t sure, he just knew he could feel the earth move and wouldn’t put it past his boyfriend to cause a seismic event with the force of his emotions), staring into Jake’s eyes and trying desperately to form some kind of response, bring himself to say anything in response that could come even remotely close to matching everything he had just heard. 

Words failed him. Utterly and completely. Responses died on his lips, cold and inadequate, like trying to return a hug with a handshake. For one rare, impossible moment in his life, Dirk Strider was completely and utterly speechless. 

Jake waited. Waited. Waited some damn more as Dirk’s mouth worked and fumbled and flopped. Finally, he raised an eyebrow at him quizzically. “Well then? I’m kind of pouring my heart out for you here. Anything to say???” 

Dirk’s mouth fumbled some more. He sighed. “This is supposed to be like, you know, like in the movies! A big moment! I mean, I know you’re not usually about saying this kinda stuff, but really Strider you’d think for the special moments you’d…” He caught himself. He’d been veering too close to hurt there, and really, did it matter? He’d said what he wanted. And he knew Dirk’s feelings well enough at this point. And that tension, that heat was still so close and insistent. It would come whether he waited or not. Any moment. 

“Ah well, it’s fine. Shall we resume the macking, then?” He said, playful and sultry as he leaned back downwards, to meet Dirk’s lips.

Dirk didn’t open his eyes when the volcano erupted, but he felt it viscerally, physically and emotionally, spiritually, timed perfectly with their lips meeting. He wondered briefly if Jake had planned for this, if Jake had caused this, but that didn’t preoccupy him overmuch when he was so overwhelmed by the absolute spectacle of it, the absolute drama of this romantic scene where they embraced in the grassy clearing after Jake had poured out his heart to him and then given him a kiss that was somehow beyond breathtaking, breath stealing, digging into him deep and wrenching out every unspoken desire.

Dirk felt himself melt again, overwhelmed utterly by Jake’s words, Jake’s mouth on his, his hands holding him close as the land shook beneath them, as lava flew into the sky behind them. His inability to express himself in words became irrelevant as he put his tongue to more productive work, trying desperately to make up for his incoherence with physical fervor. He kissed Jake long and hard, unrestrained and desperate, holding his hips tight and breathing heavy. 

Suddenly his inability to articulate how much he appreciated Jake’s words mattered little, as he let his body express his gratitude, his longing, his love. Dirk deepened the kiss, pulled Jake a little closer, slipped a hand up to rest against his neck, close and warm and not caring about the heat of the sun, the violently shuddering earth beneath them.

As the shaking lessened somewhat, Dirk pulled back ever so slightly to look Jake in the eyes once more, to stare up at him with a deep need, an almost impossible love. 

“Now that,” he breathed. “Was pure fucking hollywood.” 

Jake barely registered the words, though. His body was a flood of sensation--the volcano erupting above, Dirk overflowing below. All around him, heat and pressure, set loose. He didn’t even mind the lack of romantic admissions on Dirk’s part anymore. He was starting to understand Dirk really did speak best through body language, and the tenderness, the love that he touched him with--well that just spoke volumes, didn’t it? So long as Jake was paying attention. So long as he gave it the weight it deserved. 

He’d been sure it was coming, but the eruption still shouldn’t have been possible. The volcano was dead--he knew, he’d checked himself. Had he really done that? It seemed unreal. But he knew what Dirk would say about it once he had his wits about him, so he accepted it preemptively. It didn’t make him feel as good as he knew hearing Dirk say the words would make him feel, though. He disregarded the thought for now. Instead he quietly kicked his boots off, undid his own beltstrap and forced his too-tight shorts off with an aching grunt of relief, let them fall to his knees. 

He didn’t let Dirk get a look in before bending over and gripping at the sides of his jeans, pulling those down with equal ferocity. Down to the knees and then past them, to the ridiculous thigh-high boots. Strider’s rider pole came into view--the smattering of close-cropped red hair, the long fleshy staff, the low-dangling balls. Greatest sight he’d ever seen. But he couldn’t touch just yet, with his work half done. 

Dirk always kept these shoes strapped way too tight and complicated, and he did not have the patience or the wherewithal to deal with them. He gripped at the base of one and pulled, somehow angled it perfectly so that it would just slip right off--like Cinderella’s slipper, or something. He repeated the miracle with the other foot and suddenly the goddamn fabric chastity belt that was his best friend’s choice in wardrobes was finally unlockable, and Strider perfect and naked. Jake’s heart damn near leapt in joy as he wriggled and kicked his shorts and boxers off, slipped off his socks and let himself fall onto Dirk at last, delicious lightning shooting through him at every point of contact between skin cells. 

Dirk gasped again, wondered if he’d ever catch his breath at this rate, but abandoned that train of thought at the sudden electric skin-on-skin contact, Jake’s incredible weight and warmth enveloping him, overtaking him. Something about that naked flesh, the heat of it, the soft hair of Jake’s stomach and chest, the insistence of his dick, hard and thick as it pressed desperately against Dirk’s own, it swallowed him up, consumed him like he was caught in a riptide, being dragged down by the undertow. His mouth fell open as he unabashedly moaned, feeling like a swimmer in an inexorable ocean current at the feel of Jake, everything Jake, lips and tongue and teeth and hot breath and sweet whispers, deep needs. 

Dirk wanted to lose himself in this ocean of Jake. Dirk was breathless and wanted to drown. 

A bottle of lube tumbled out of Jake’s sylladex with what had to be a sixteenth of a thought. It bounced and rolled towards them, and Jake was forced to take his hand off Dirk’s perfect hip to catch it before the nozzle could hurt him. He placed it upright on the grass beside them but his only thoughts were empty ones, cups filled up by something deeper than words: Dirk’s fingertips stroking here, the curve of his neck under his nose, the tickling of short hair in Jake’s hand as it lingered on the back of Dirk’s neck, teasing. The pleasant friction of their cocks, sliding and shoving up against each other.

His fingers clutched reflexively at a small scrap of hair but he wasn’t high up enough and took his time getting a firmer grip. He forced his arm under Dirk, spread his palm open against his back and forced him slightly upwards so his nails could dig gently into skin. All the while he planted kisses everywhere we could--Dirk’s cheek, his forehead, tongue deep in his mouth, his throat, the barely-present stubble under his chin, their tongues dancing hard in his own mouth once again. No matter where he touched, it wasn’t good enough.

Dirk tilted his head back a little, instinctively convincing Jake’s hand to lose itself in his hair again, because he wanted that sensation again, on top of all of the others, wanted Jake to send that fire through his nerves with his grip, to grab and hold, make him utterly willing, unrestrained and desperate. Breaking the kiss, he leaned into Jake’s touch, and whispered, breathy and aching with desire, “Please.” 

His hand worked down Dirk’s back in fits and stutters, probably getting scratched up on the dirt. He took a hard, biting suck at Dirk’s neck as it reached the small of his back and finally loosened, set free by the void where regular humans had, like, a butt. He got his hand under Dirk’s thigh and lifted, getting one of Dirk’s legs up around his hips. He grinned down at the boy as he quickly reached out and squirted lube into his hand liberally. “Please? Please what, Dirk?” he said, breathless and shaky. His hand slipped back downwards and touched gently between Dirk’s legs, massaging lubricant against the tense muscle of his asshole. 

His other hand climbed higher, rested on the crown of Dirk’s wonderful wildfire hair, but didn’t grip. “I can’t very well ‘Please’ anything if you don’t tell me what it is you want, buddy.” 

Dirk squirmed in Jake’s arms, trying to get some purchase on either end of him, preferably both, desperate for Jake’s hands to probe further, to grip harder. He ached for those fingers to slide into him, for Jake to claim what was rightfully his, but he wanted it with a burn he’d never felt before, except for those lightning strike moments of Jake’s fingers searing at his scalp. 

He groaned at Jake’s voice and squirmed harder, knowing his face was fire red, this always happened, Jake needed those words, that affirmation, wanted clarity and sincerity, and he wanted them from Dirk more than anything or anyone else. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting past embarrassment, past the mild shame, focusing on the release he hoped the statement would bring. 

“Please,” he choked out. “... Pull my hair again.” 

He complied immediately, relieved he hadn’t misread the situation after all. He clutched a tight handful of red hair and pulled gentle but hard, forcing Dirk’s lips back to his at the same moment as he pushed his fingers deep inside him. Dirk gave easily and with a weird sort of thrill Jake realized he was used to this, the intimate motions. It was starting to feel like coming home. 

He kissed Dirk hard, pulled his hair harder, rubbed and vibrated and made him slick and ready inside hardest of all. All the while he writhed and twisted, rubbing his crotch against Dirk’s, uncomfortable and dry but fuck it was friction, it was friction and he needed more now. His cock throbbed and he felt Dirk’s dick and crotch and stomach on every inch of it but that still wasn’t good enough, still wasn’t Dirk close enough to him. 

Dirk let out a helpless groan at the feel of Jake’s fingers inside him, felt his whole body shudder. Those incredible digits, knowing every spot to touch, how to work him open and leave him exposed, beyond laid bare, defenses stripped and decimated in favor of letting Jake in, metaphorically, literally, spiritually. 

The fingers of Jake’s other hand twisted in his hair, pulling and dragging Dirk’s mind into a deep kind of unfamiliar peace, a blankness that he could scarcely comprehend. All of his thoughts sank to the bottom of his mind, leaving a clarity, a pristine transcendent insight into a life not constantly overclocked with questions, with doubts, with the need for experimentation, rigorous testing and conclusive results. 

Somehow the grip on his scalp, the curl and flex of Jake’s fingers within him, the pin and needle sharpness of the pain above and the hot ache of the pleasure below, these sensations pulled Dirk out of his head and fully into his body, focused only on the physical. 

Dirk felt something shift within him, something warm and safe and right, connected inexorably to Jake’s magnificently moving fingers around him, inside him, and he felt himself let go, actually let go, of the things that so often plagued his thoughts. 

He didn’t need to think, not when Jake was here, and all he wanted was to keep getting lost in the heat and the pressure and the pain. Dirk bucked his hips forward, pressing Jake’s dick against his own as he kissed him desperately, hungrily. He was ready, so beyond ready, for Jake to be closer, to be as close as possible, to split him open, take him apart. 

As he clutched at Jake’s back, tried to merge their bodies, moaned into his mouth, more than ever Dirk trusted Jake to put him back together again. 

Jake slid his fingers out of Dirk’s warmth in a smooth motion and rubbed them sloppily against the grass to clean off a bit before dabbing a fresh coat of lube on his hand. He didn’t let go of Dirk’s hair as he sat up onto his knees, giving him time to raise himself by his arms and follow. He didn’t touch Dirk’s dick--suspecting his fingers were still dirty enough he’d likely protest--but Jake could not bring himself to give a solitary gentlemanly fuck about how dirty anything was and his cock was burning like lava when he grasped himself, forced a fresh sigh and a worrisome twitch in his hand that jerked Dirk’s whole head lightly leftwards. 

But it left him ready for the finale, and even if he’d overstepped, Jake didn’t think Dirk would hold it against him overmuch.

Dirk was completely removed from the things that would normally give him pause, focused so utterly on what he could feel, not what he could think. He felt Jake’s hand slipping out of him and he shifted, groaning with that same unrestrained need he’d been expressing since their bodies had come together. Sure, he still had a tight grip on his hair, but it wasn’t enough, none of it was enough, and he shuddered in anticipation of what he knew was coming next. 

This wasn’t like him, at least not on the surface, but Dirk had known for a while that Jake would bring out the truth of him, one way or another, cutting through the layers of irony, obfuscation, machination, and find what Dirk wanted and needed beneath it all. 

So he clung to Jake in the grass, naked and needy, ready for everything he had to give, eager, passive, a supplicant to his lover’s will. 

Jake reared back just a little, angled his cock away from Dirk’s and lower, pressed the tip up against his hole. The rest was easy--a bit of pressure and then all inertia. He squeezed Dirk’s hair as hard as he could and pulled gently, forced Dirk’s face into an angle where he could take in every inch of his reaction. 

Then, suddenly, he was three inches deep inside Dirk--a single loving thrust was all it took. The pressure and heat forced a groan out of his lips-- it was downright heavenly. His ass clenched, his toes curled into the grass, and his back arched at an angle that forced him to press his chest and stomach entirely flush against Dirk’s. 

“Ah, mangled fucking dingleberries, DIRK,” He rasped up against Dirk’s ear, his breath so thick he knew it would tickle him. “Dirk that’s incredible, you’re incredible oh fucking lordy…” He wrapped his free arm around Dirk, pressing close to him everywhere as he forced himself deeper in. Except his head. That, Jake kept just at a distance, just far enough to watch every detail and nuance, just far enough to take it all in. He pulled by the roots and worried he might be hurting him but also didn’t really--Dirk seemed to be enjoying himself too much, and blast it all, Jake was too. 

And double blast it all, Jake was doing all he could and it STILL wasn’t close enough. Dirk was perfect, limp and pliable like this, but he could have used some help here. 

“Dirk, wrap your legs around me.” He said, and he hadn’t meant it to sound like an order but actually he supposed he did. He pressed in a little more and gasped--fuck, he was already all the way in. He had to pull back out but he also couldn’t stand waiting another moment for Dirk to be curled around him. “Come on, Dirk, tight around. Make it snappy. Now.” 

Dirk may have been overwhelmed, may have been absolutely lost in every sensation lighting his nerves ablaze at the feeling of Jake pressing himself inside him, but Jake’s words cut through him like a command from an authoritative god. “Yes,” he whispered, immediately shifting his body, clinging on to Jake with his arms and bringing his legs up, squeezing with his thighs to hold on for dear life. Skin met skin all the more, closeness overwhelming him, making him breathe out moans and unintelligible whispers as he felt Jake all over him, gripping him, filling him. 

Dirk hadn’t thought he could get more lost in the love of his life, but he was finding new depths and distances that Jake had managed to probe, had managed to plunder. He held on, desperately, his breath tight and shaky as he felt Jake move in him, the fingers tangled in his hair still the sweetest pain he’d ever experienced, delicious and sharp, the command of his grip demanding Dirk’s obedience. 

It was willingly given. For this Jake, the man whose voice wrapped around him and led him into the light, Dirk was ready to obey. It was the ultimate admission of a kind of faith, accepting Jake English as his unfathomable master, his leader, his life. For Jake, Dirk could finally be a believer. 

Jake whined into Dirk’s neck as he pulled out, then plunged back in. He was too worked up, he wasn’t going to last long at all. Like it even mattered. Dirk was his, his, his now. His forever. If he came too fast, they could go again later. If Dirk came too fast, he wouldn’t even have to stop. There was freedom in knowing he couldn’t mess this up, couldn’t disappoint him as long as he kept wanting to share this part of himself, and boy that was never going to be a problem. 

The security made it easy. He slammed in hard enough that his balls stung where they smacked into Dirk’s skin and hissed at the agonizing pleasure. Repeated the motion and this time it forced him to shout right into Dirk’s lips. The third impact brought only a loud, muffled whimpering--Jake couldn’t tell if he was hearing it come out of his own throat or out from between Dirk’s teeth. 

His arms just kept getting stronger. The one more surely becoming a hyper-precise leash with which he could place Dirk’s head wherever and however he wanted, be granted access to any part of him he wanted to eye or smell, kiss or bite or lick. The other drawing Dirk tighter, increasing the poking pressure of Dirk’s dick up against his furry tummy. Almost as good as being inside him was Dirk’s dick rolling open and shut against his belly button. 

Dirk moved with every thrust and movement of Jake, each percussive slap of Jake’s balls against him eliciting a moan, a curse, a scream. He wasn’t normally this loud, wasn’t normally this brazen or able to express the full extent of the pleasure Jake could bring him, but he was practically on another plane of existence at this point, felt like his entire essence was loosening, freeing itself from the shackles he’d imprisoned it in all his life in his desperate desire for control. 

Every thrust of Jake’s hips against him, every tightened grip on his hair, every desperate kiss and exchanged moan, each one pulled Dirk out of his strict and regimented mold, broke the barriers of his logic and reason, converted him to the ways and whims of Jake English over and over. He could already feel his orgasm threatening, every shift in movement rubbing his dick across Jake’s stomach, hypersensitive almost to the point of pain. Dirk relished in it, let the sensation and stimulation flood him, pleasure and pain blurred and beautiful, as beautiful as the look on Jake’s face whenever he leaned back just slightly to watch Dirk’s face as he thrust into him, tugged hard on his hair, dragged more and more unfettered moans and curses from Dirk’s lips. 

Jake’s cock throbbed inside Dirk, everything about him hot and wet--sweat, lube, precum, Dirk’s spit and his own. Everywhere their disparate fluids mingling, mixing, becoming one entity. Like they were, Jake’s flesh so deep into Dirk’s he couldn’t even tell where he ended and Dirk began, everything just raw white pressure and tension building and building to some summit he couldn’t even imagine anymore. 

His teeth closed around Dirk’s shoulder and he sucked, hard, stealing away all of the taste and the texture of him. Left him raw and red and marked there. Mine, his head answered at the sight of him. His mark? His conquest? His lover? His friend? All of those but also something else, something better, something more than the sum of the parts. Dirk. His Dirk. His Dirk. 

Jake’s thoughts started to lose coherency, turned into something like a mantra or a prayer, the words repeated over and over again as he ached and throbbed and rocked inside him. His dirk his dirk his dirk his dirk-- He thought maybe the ground was shaking again but he wasn’t sure if that was just his world coming undone, somewhere inside. 

Dirk’s body was beyond his control, his mind pure blank bliss. All he could do was hold on, arms and legs wrapped around Jake tight, his anchor to a new reality that went beyond the confines of mortal thought, or even immortal thought. Every nerve sparked as Jake drove into him again and again, harder and stronger, the feel of his teeth on his skin piercing his perceptions as they dragged across his shoulder. The pain flared over and over, sensory overdrive, scalp aching and limbs shaking. He couldn’t form coherent thoughts, couldn’t shape words, his mouth only available for screams, gasps, even the beginnings of sobs as the sharp pain broke down every barrier in his core. 

He wasn’t ashamed to show emotions, for once in his miserable life. Didn’t feel the urge to hide his face away as the tears crested his eyelids, rolled down his cheeks. It was just one more physical experience to add to this transcendence, another small wonder that came from loving and being loved by Jake. 

Dirk drew in a shuddering breath, thought he felt the ground move in time with him, then Jake pressed into him again, deeper and harder, and he felt the bliss of the pain again in the roots of his hair, the burn of his muscles, the sting of Jake’s teeth. Everything was whiting out, he felt like he was sinking, overstimulated, electric and alive, so incredibly intimately alive, and as he drew closer and closer to the edge, to release, he felt the earth move in more ways than one. 

Jake whimpered into Dirk’s chest, then growled, then shouted. He tossed and twisted, putting his lips down anywhere he could get them, trying to smother Dirk entirely in kisses. His cock felt like molten lava and he was so close, so close he couldn’t stand it. His body didn’t exist except for wherever it met Dirk’s skin and the ground was quaking now, coming alive. Something furious and mighty was taking place in the distance but nothing compared to what was taking place in his heart, in every cell now braced against some ecstatic apocalypse. 

Something clicked and he became intimately aware of the fact that at the basics of it, on some unfathomable, invisibly tiny level, everything that made up Dirk and everything that made up him was literally converging into one. They were trading energy, trading electrons and atoms in all sorts of configurations. Giving and taking parts of each other, becoming a tiny bit less themselves and a tiny bit more the other. 

It wasn’t hyperbole or beautiful metaphor--but fact. Literal, visceral fact, like the fact of Dirk’s moaning in his ear, like the equally impossible and mind boggling fact of Dirk traveling centuries and universes and layers of existence just to come save him and keep him safe. Again and again and again. Like he’d wanted him to. Like he always would. 

And that knowledge finally undid him, broke some layer of control he’d still had deep in his heart. Sweltering heat and the smell of sulfur overtook him and he was dimly aware the volcano’s eruption this time was devastating, that it made the first seem like a warm up. But he didn’t register it past his own howling up against Dirk’s hair, just behind his ear and his own eruption deep inside Dirk’s ass-- every bit as devastating and probably more intense.

He forced himself up onto his elbow, pulling Dirk’s head awkwardly to the side but freeing up his other arm so he could reach down and grasp him, stroke him up and down as he sped up his thrusting as much as he possibly could--fuck the blinding intensity making him feel like he would pass out, fuck the human penises’ refractory period and fuck worrying about lava overtaking them if they got unlucky. 

He wanted Dirk screaming and throbbing and cumming in his hand and he wanted it right now. And he would have it. He would have what he wanted from Dirk forever, until the end of time and after that and after that again, and that thought didn’t scare him or inspire doubt at all right now. 

He’d always gotten what he wanted so far, after all. 

 

 

The volcano erupting again only registered as a footnote in the story of the moment between them, of the incomparable experience of Jake’s orgasm, his screams, his love, pure and unadulterated and strong enough to defy nature, science, Dirk’s calculations and his deductions. He had nothing left to deduce, nothing to assess or confirm, just this, these lips against his, skin against skin, raw passion and need and rise and release. 

Everything else fell away, totally and with abandon, and Dirk’s voice joined Jake’s in a chorus of impossible pleasure, his high tenor blending with Jake’s baritone, each scream staccato and punching the superheated air as Jake’s hand worked him closer and closer, hand still twisted in his hair. 

Dirk stared into Jake’s eyes and saw nothing but the clearest and most profound of loves, a certainty that crashed over him like waves. Jake’s grip on him, his cock, his hair, his unshakeable attention, his determined silent assertion that Dirk was completely and utterly his, finally tipped him past the point of no return. 

Dirk screamed Jake’s name over and over again as he came, covering Jake’s hand, painting his stomach, hot and wet and desperate and alive, so fucking alive, and he knew deeper than anything he’d been told or he’d discovered, he was Jake’s, he was His, forever, and whatever Jake wanted of him, he would give of his own free will, devoted beyond a shadow of a doubt. 

Dirk’s soul was not destroyed, he knew this utterly. A prince of heart though he may be, he wasn’t doomed to fractured, splintered loneliness. His soul belonged to Jake English, burned inexorably and branded with him, reformed as a whole with his love and hope at the center of it all. 

Dirk shuddered in the aftermath, stared into Jake’s eyes again, hoping that his gaze could say what his words failed to scratch the surface of. 

He belonged to Jake. Now and forever, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for him. Unlimited potential had always seemed infectious. 

Jake groaned and had to blink back tears at the incredible satisfaction of watching Dirk twist and shout under him, around the pressure of Jake’s own flesh impaling him. Watching him soak them both in his seed, hot and sticky and christ there was so much of it Jake would have made a horse pun if he knew how to string together words. He thrust lazily in and out of Dirk a little more, softening already but also used to the intensity at this point, more than willing to endure. 

He couldn’t speak. What he could do, however, was just...ensure they were downwind of the volcano. Let the sulfur and lava wash into the ocean instead of onto their little patch of safety and grass. It was trivially easy, in fact. He didn’t even have to do anything, exactly. Instead he just knew it would go that way. Kind of like he’d known it would go this way, eventually--him and Dirk together, by the end.

He grinned under his grimace of sensitivity as he got himself to pull out, let his cock flop into the air raw and pulsing. He was fucking soaked in sweat and breathing so hard he thought his lungs might burst. His eyes dimmed but he fought the threat of passing out entirely away, made himself focus. 

As usual, he used Dirk to do it. Specifically, he curled his arms around Dirk’s thighs and raised him slightly, just enough to be able to take in the show. Dirk’s ass was red and raw and the imprint of Jake was all over it, just like on the rest of Dirk’s body. He loved it. But his favorite part, this particular second at least, was watching his own cum seeping slightly out of his boyfriend--proof that the last few minutes hadn’t been an incredible fever dream. 

 

He watched Dirk twitch and let streams of his own cum flow out of him, bright white fluid. He genuinely considered pressing his lips to him, drinking and tasting that forbidden place, inviting a new chorus of music from Dirk’s sore throat. But he was just too damn tired, and anyway it was probably better to at least talk about doing a new thing like that first. Not to mention the need to pace themselves. There were so many things to try, but well, they had literal eternity. 

Dirk’s head lolled against the grass, his hair no longer being used as Jake’s point of control. He gasped for breath, everything still hot and smarting from repeated contact, repeated impact. He could feel what remained of Jake dripping out of him and he sighed, exhausted. He felt like he could almost fall asleep right there, tangled in Jake and only barely conscious of reality. 

What use did he have for reality when he and Jake had a love that could warp reality, could bring dormant volcanoes to life? 

Steady breathing came back slowly. Through his racing heart and spinning head it was all Jake could do to keep himself upright, to not fall around Dirk’s comfortable heft and let himself fall asleep. But he sensed danger behind that idea. It was one thing to veer the flow of a volcano while he was conscious, but the idea of being this close while he was asleep made him nervous for some reason. He really didn’t want their memories of today to be punctuated by the memory of melting in lava, as neat an anecdote as it might be. 

He let himself float up, instead--messily jamming the lube and both their sets of clothes into a pile inside his sylladex. Flying was such a neat skill to have for when he was feeling lazy, it was like turning on auto pilot. He curled his hand around Dirk’s wrist, pulling gently.   
“Come along, buddy. We oughta get home. I dunno about you but a cool shower and some bedsheets sound absolutely spectacular right about now.” 

Dirk floated with Jake, still woozy and not fully registering everything happening. What Jake said sounded good though, yeah, a shower sounded great. A bed sounded really great. Having those things with Jake? The greatest. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around Jake’s neck and holding him close, the two of them floating together back towards Jake’s globe, towards the closest thing his island had to civilization. 

Towards the closest thing Dirk had to a home.


	3. Effusive Eruption

Sometimes he missed his apartment, missed the ocean spray and the chance to deep sea dive. He even missed the heat sometimes, often oppressive but familiar, nostalgic. The island was wetter, more lush and more alive, not a sterile decaying remnant of a past civilization but a chance for something more. 

 

Sometimes Dirk thought about how much his home was representative of him. How much the island was representative of Jake. How much it meant to him that Jake was willing to let the island become Dirk’s home as much as it was his. Dirk was happy to go back to his can, to interact with the others, but when he wanted to feel right, when he wanted to feel like he belonged somewhere, this was where his mind wandered. This was what felt like home. 

It didn’t take long. The island really wasn’t very big, and now that he could fly Jake could traverse it end to end in a matter of minutes. It made him feel a little odd to realize that. Older, maybe. As a young tyke he’d scarcely ever wandered far from his globe. He’d gotten braver as he’d grown, gotten to know Dirk and the others. He’d never actually let himself venture as far as the coasts until Brobot was here--Dirk in proxy, looking out for him. 

Now Dirk was here in the flesh, and it made the challenges of old seem like footnotes. Jake sensed there was poetry to that, somehow. But he was too raw and tired and sleepy to indulge the thought much further. Hopefully later, he promised himself as they descended under the treeline, the globe now in view. For now he was just looking forward to cooling off, and being comfy with Dirk under his bed covers. Maybe with a movie on, if Dirk deigned to indulge him. That would be perfect. That would be home. 

Relief spilled over Jake as they crossed the open doorframe and slipped inside the shadows of the orb. It was cool in here. The dark shadows were soothing after the glimpses of distant lava and the bright sunset sky’s brilliant blue glare. He didn’t turn the lights on, but did toggle a switch setting the tower’s powerful cooling system halfway to maximum. 

They’d be downright freezing if he didn’t adjust that back soon, but for now it was immeasurably welcome as he led Dirk by the hand down the familiar hall, into his shower. Hard to believe it had been months already since they’d made love in here for the first time. Was he going to end up christening all his favorite places with memories of taking Dirk in them, make them new all over? The idea felt lovely. 

Dirk felt like he was still floating even when he was back on his feet in Jake’s globe, as he was being led to the shower. Everything was cool but still somehow light in here, keeping him just awake enough to keep moving. He knew once he was clean, once he was curled up with Jake in his bed, he’d doze off easily, end up sleeping here again. 

Dirk crashing at Jake’s wasn’t unheard of - the two of them tended to switch off at first, Jake staying with Dirk in can town a few nights a week, but as time went by, as they tried new and unusual and experimental things with each other, the option of a deserted island had a strong appeal. 

He wandered muzzily after Jake, still holding his hand, eyes heavy-lidded and mind cloudy. It was like that overwhelming blankness still lingered, like his mind hadn’t fully come back from that place yet and he was still only able to process the physical, still in that single-track mindset he’d found with the sensation of Jake’s hands in his hair, pulling tight. 

Dirk had read about this concept before, even discussed it academically with Rose and non-academically with Roxy. He wondered how much Jake knew about dominance and submission dynamics, about the idea of ‘sub-space’. He wondered if he and Jake would need to discuss this in more detail, come up with a safeword, with preferences for aftercare, would have further deeper fantasies to keep exploring in a more predetermined setting, one less spur of the moment and more aware. 

Clearly his mind was coming back, the clouds making his mind fuzzy beginning to lift. Dirk tried to hold onto the softness. If there was one thing he needed, it was a break from his racing thoughts. 

The water sprang to life perfectly, raining down from every corner in the room. As usual, it was perfect, though he always found himself surprised at how much more he appreciated it now that he knew what Dirk’s shower was like. So much work, with like, nozzles and adjusting the temperature manually? Absurd. This was the perfect temperature--not too cool to be uncomfortable, not too warm to be stifling all over again. 

He let it cleanse him, felt it slide off the grime and sweat and make him feel new as easy as breathing. He turned around and kissed Dirk on the lips again, soft and gentle. He felt blank and satisfied and empty, and feeling Dirk grounded him somehow, reminded him this was still real. He needed it, since it all certainly felt dreamy enough. He reminded himself that he’d done it somehow, gotten the chance to make their courtship right in his heart, and felt a swell of pride and satisfaction fill up his chest. When they weren’t exhausted he’d have to ask Dirk for his thoughts on the episode, really press him on it. 

But for now they were mostly clean enough--this thing worked it’s magic fast if you let it. He realized he’d never let go of Dirk’s wrist through the shower so he did now and ran his fingers through his hair a little, just to make sure. He kept his eyes on Dirk’s hair throughout it, though. In the water all the product had washed right out of it, and it looked bewilderingly adorable pressed down around his cheeks and his neck, dark streaks of red miles.

“Your hair looks wonderful like that, by the way.” He offered casually, to try and strike up conversation as much as anything. Dirk was unusually quiet, and even if that had been true of him also he was already starting to miss his voice. “Loose that way. Not that it doesn’t look stunning sticking up, but...ah well, you know what I mean.” 

Dirk leaned into Jake’s touch with a quiet smile, still shaking off the fog of their encounter. “Thanks,” he mumbled, leaning in to give his boyfriend another kiss, uncharacteristically gentle. “Not gonna stop constructing the perfect sculpt on it though. Gotta maintain the brand.” The water was soothing, cleaned him easily while also bringing him back to the present, back to something resembling his usual state. “... Not gonna complain if you pull on it again though,” he added, a slight flush in his cheeks at the memory of that first moment when Jake’s fingers had created that pressure on his scalp. “Not gonna complain at all.”

 

“Haha, I just bet you won’t!” He teased as he led Dirk out of the bathroom and pulled towels out of his sylladex, tossed one behind him where he knew Dirk would catch. But it was a distant, wistful sort of tease. He was still having trouble wrapping his head around what had just happened. Was that just...a regular thing about Dirk? Had it always been there? A moment flashed in his head--Dirk’s mouth sprung open, his words half moaned, his body bare and naked and all Jake’s to enjoy. _Pull my hair again._ “Maybe later.” Jake added, and it sounded like a promise, but he didn’t know if it was meant for Dirk or for himself. Both, likely. 

For now, as he rose up his staircase and up into the confines of his room, Jake felt ponderous. To think, Dirk was so eager for...well, for **this** ( _the **This** standing in for some other word, some word that felt both too small and too big for Jake at once, difficult to process. Like the time they liked spending together was not up to the measure of the sheer feeling that Jake was just starting to believe truly was inside both of their hearts_ ) that he essentially came with a built in master control leash. Jake had never understood why the word leash had such erotic implications sometimes, but he thought he did now.

He was starting to understand a lot of things lately. Just sharing space with Dirk seemed to have that effect. Made him sharper, more aware of himself and sure of his surroundings. It had happened during the game, to be sure, but never to this extent--maybe because he’d never been at ease enough or at leisure enough to just relax in the man’s company. Because he’d never been sure enough of his competence, and so it had just been easier on him and likely Dirk too to let him handle stuff. He’d certainly been eager enough to take charge.

But that didn’t feel true anymore. And it hadn’t for a while. 

Now being with Dirk--with everyone-- was...peaceful. It was just life, and it took a hell of a lot of getting used to. Sometimes he remembered the days on the island, when Dirk and Jane and Roxy and Callie had been but pixels on a screen, and he’d always been alone. When he did that, both the experience of now and the memory of then felt unreal and alien somehow, like two things so different could not possibly coexist in a single life. 

He wondered what Dirk might say about all this. Once upon a time he would’ve been sure he could trace all of Strider’s reponses, predict them to the letter. But also once upon a time he’d believed Dirk wanted him for his body and humor and little else, wanted a plucky sidekick to support and encourage him while he decided and acted. That he’d wanted someone...passive? Easy to control? Argh, no, neither of those had been apt. He couldn’t find the words for it, couldn’t--

_(You will have no executive authority whatsoever, because you are too stupid.)_  
_(You will always do exactly what I say, when I say it. You will be obedient, cheerful, mostly silent, and scantily clad. Is that understood?)_  
_(You're lucky you're so hot.)_  
Ah. Still no words, of course, but there was the sentiment. He wasn’t sure whether to begrudge his brain for spitting out that cruel thought--not fair to him, not fair to Jane, not fair to anybody--or pleased he’d at least been able to figure this much out. He wished it hadn’t cast a rain cloud on his nice mood, though. Stupid lousy meandering train of thought. 

 

Jake took a deep breath as he passed the doorframe, pressed his hand to his temple. There was a reason he’d gone there, an important one. That’s right. Dirk DIDN’T think that way, that had been the whole point, right? Dirk had just finished proving exactly how assertive he really wanted Jake to be--proven he’d trust him with his body, with his will, with his life by letting him be in control with an active fucking volcano blowing it’s top right on top of them. 

And Jane didn’t think that way either. He knew that. He knew that. It wasn’t his friends’ fault if he was too much of a damn baby to give the good feelings the weight they should have and the bad ones overflowed every so often. He’d get a handle on it, eventually. Karkat had seemed pretty sure about that. 

“Home sweet home!” he said as he wandered into his room-- probably a little too forcefully, but damnit, he was not going to let some uninvited thoughts ruin a day this nice. 

Dirk followed Jake along in a fog of dreamy relaxation. It was only halfway up the steps that he realized he was getting an eyeful of Jake’s broad, dark back, his perfect goddamn ass, the curve of his chest and shoulders. It took him until Jake’s arm raised and touched his head to realize something was bothering him. 

Distantly he felt his brain go into overdrive, panic. But that was a played out motion at this point, and the ache of Jake was louder than it in his ass, between his legs, in the places in his back that rocks had pressed into his skin as Jake took him. In his drowsy, satisfied state and with the memory of Jake’s loving so fresh the fear had no power, and he knew better than to indulge it thanks to Karkat. 

It was easy to choose being curious, being comfortable. To try to help instead of freak out and try desperately to grab on. Dirk thought that felt like progress. Really good progress. “You’re forcing it a little, aren’t you. What’s wrong?” 

Jake jumped. The same old fear spiked--Dirk was worried now, he wasn’t being attentive enough. His mind had wandered for a moment. Stupid stupid stupid. “Oh! Um, nothing really, I’m…” 

But Dirk didn’t look tense or annoyed or disappointed. His glasses weren’t on, and his eyes were cool and balanced. It was Dirk taking notice of a difficult engineering problem he was stubbornly working on, ready to absorb information with calm, smooth interest. Dirk on standby to help with a problem--not Dirk a bomb that needed to be defused before their relationship went critical. 

It calmed Jake, a little. A lot more soon afterwards when Dirk said “I’m not worried it’s about us, dude. We’re cool, I know that. Just tell me what’s the matter? Maybe I can help.” Well, how could he ever deny that suggestion and then meet Karkat in the eye again? Jake knew a good idea when he heard one, and this was a good idea--even if it scared the dickens out of him. 

It occurred to Jake that dating Dirk was basically an adventure into itself. He was always trying to rise to some new height or face a new hidden version of himself. Now that the consequences didn’t seem quite so dire...now that Dirk’s affections--or maybe his deservedness of them--didn’t feel so much in question, it didn’t seem so traumatizing. In fact, Jake thought he was beginning to find it rather...fun. Karkat was definitely on to something with this communication stuff. But then, Jake had already known that. He sighed, a little chagrined at himself.

“I just...have thoughts, sometimes.” He started. “Voices. From the session. Either you or Jane, generally. Although that isn’t fair, actually. More like Cyborg Crocker Jane, and the AR. And Brain Ghost Dirk, I guess, a little bit. But I think he was more just reflective of my state of mind. Still, it...it hurt.” he admitted. 

Dirk absorbed the information hesitantly, warily. “I’ve...never gotten the specifics of what went down between you two. You and Jane, I mean. I can see how Hal would have had that effect on you, though. He and I were pretty fucking pushy. I wouldn’t be surprised it left some bad memories.” 

“It wasn’t really about anyone’s affections, to be honest. I just didn’t know how to handle that at the time. If anything, I felt bad for hurting Jane, and hurting you. This was more about...I dunno. My intelligence, I guess. Jane said a lot of stuff about me being incompetent and stupid and only desirable for my body, I suppose. And Brain Ghost Dirk kind of concurred with her, and told me I needed to man up...then, looking back I realized the AR had questioned my intelligence many times over also, and then Roxy sometimes joked about it sweetly, and Callie’s jerk brother piped up about it once or twice…”

He was rambling, he realized dimly. Dirk’s eyes looked wide and sad, full of sympathy. “Anyway, eventually I guess it just kind of got to me. And then I got busted out of jail, and you were here again, and Jane was back to normal, and all of us apologized and things are good now. And you’ve even shown me how that’s not the case! Both of you tried so hard to reach out and make things square again, even when I was too scared to try to. It made me realize you did actually like me, after all.” 

Jake continued talking, trying to speed to the good part, trying to ease the pain for Dirk. He didn’t want Dirk to be sad, that wasn’t the point at all. “It’s just...the thoughts haven’t gone away, yet. The worry still lingers, you know? Like it is for you when I need some alone time, I guess. Dave and Karkat say it’s a time thing, that I’ll figure it out if I wait on it.” 

“That sounds like them.” Dirk said, on the ball and charming as usual. “Still. I...shit, Jake. I had no idea. That it had piled up on you like that, I mean. Obviously I understand my own part in it. I’m...really sorry.” 

“Oh, no! You don’t need to apologize, I just wanted you to understand. It’s not...I understand none of you meant it, now, for the most part. And it’s getting better, lately. The voices are quieter and easier to get a handle on. A lot of times they come up but then you say something or do something that makes it better. You make it better.” He was rambling again. 

But Dirk listened raptly, like every word was something that mattered, of substance. “I do?” He asked, simply. His eyes were big and full of something Jake didn’t quite recognize. It made him smile, though. “Yeah, bud, you do! All the time.” 

“...Okay. Still. You didn’t deserve being put through that.” Dirk reaffirmed, hard and firm. “Just so we’re clear, we were all assholes. You were in your own way, too, I guess. But that doesn’t mean it’s okay, or fair. You’re the smartest guy I know, and I know a lot of smart people. I’m sorry we made you feel like you weren’t, at any point in time.” 

Jake blinked. “You’ve told me that before, actually, I think. But it’s still nice to hear, and it...it helps. It does. I’m awful sorry for being a burden about it, but I guess if you don’t mind, next time the thoughts get too loud it could help to hear?” 

Dirk blushed hard. So, Jake remembered that night. It had been months since it happened, and other than a thank you the morning after, they hadn’t talked about it at all. “I did, and it’s true. It’s also true you’re not a burden on anybody, least of all me. You can definitely ask me to help out with those, anytime you want. Even if you’re away or whatever, like on one of your alone trips or it’s late or something. I’m serious. If you need me I’m like...I’m here, alright?” 

Jake hadn’t expected his response to Dirk’s outburst. It wasn’t Dirk’s usual collected, smooth drawl. Instead it had been hesitant, stuttering, Dirk’s eyes darting left and right and a blush creeping up his neck. Just the offer worked wonders, washed the aftertaste of the memories out like a swig of something strong. Love, maybe. The word seemed bigger than Jake felt he was allowed to use, but if the shoe fit, then…

“I wish you were around all the time, like you were then.” Jake said, when he’d meant to say thank you. He regretted it almost immediately--instantly, Dirk railed up, on the defense. That was a bridge too far, it seemed. His shoulders hunched and his eyes turned wary, and suddenly the dull white room’s space seemed to expand between them. 

“Not that I don’t like the sentiment, Jake, but I don’t think you’re thinking straight. While we’re communicating openly, making Karkat all kinds of proud and shit? I’d be completely happy to deliver on that kind of request. What about your alone time? I’d rather you only say that kind of thing when you actually mean it, not just because it sounds nice.” 

Jake didn’t answer right away. He felt...odd. Ordinarily he would have resented that, gotten defensive. But he didn’t feel that urge at all. Maybe this was progress? He hoped so, but he had a feeling he was about to make it worse, and he was starting to get nervous. He had a feeling he’d messed up, in a way he couldn’t quite identify. Still, there was nothing left to do but be honest.

“I did mean it, actually.” Jake said, and watched Dirk tighten all over. “I didn’t mean literally physically here all the time, necessarily, just in easy reach like that, close at hand. Even at top speed, it takes like twenty minutes to get here from Can Town, or the roundabout.” 

The silence beat for one second, then two. Then, finally, Jake realized what he was saying, actually saying to Dirk. His eyes darted to his little drawer workstation, his thoughts flitting to what lay inside. His heart jumped into his throat. Dirk had had a point, actually--at the very least, Jake didn’t know if he was ready to make this...confession. “I don’t even know if you’re sure of what you’re saying yourself, though, Dirk!” he said, his voice high and a little panicked. “I mean, I would be such a jackass, asking you to move away from Can Town just to live in my little tower and then only hang out if I wanted us to!” 

Dirk just stared. Not unimpressed, exactly. Mostly just...not registering. Like the idea was just too big for his head, and cripes, was that a rare thought to have about Strider. Jake was suddenly sure he’d fucked everything up permanently, and he was terrified. And it’d been such a nice day, too. Dirk must have seen something in his eyes, because he started, blinked hard once, twice, and stared at him again. “What.” he said, flatly, vaguely stunned.

“What?”

“Was that you being serious, just now?”

“What? What? Who was being serious? Who, me? Haha! I’m not--”

“Jake.” Dirk said, and his voice was tight and actually angry, maybe. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Jake had messed this up so bad. He felt a cold sweat break out over his shoulders. Dirk continued, his voice smooth but audibly constrained. “I won’t be mad if you change your mind. But I will be mad if you play dumb and pretend you didn’t just say that. We talked about this, at length, you literally just told me you hate me treating you like you’re stupid. You can’t have it both ways here.” 

Jake bit his lip. Caught, red-handed. Everything had it’s price, he supposed--including wanting to be taken seriously. “Oh, bother. You’re right, of course. I’m sorry about that.” Jake muttered. He went to his drawer and opened it, noticed his hand was trembling a little. “Fine, if you’re going to press me so hard on this then...alright, I suppose I may as well get it over with.” He took the letter, sealed in it’s perfectly alchemized little envelope. He hoped the contents were as well crafted as the packaging, but he doubted it immensely

“I wanted to save this for your birthday, maybe, but I hadn’t exactly decided on it as a PRESENT since I wasn’t sure you’d jive all that well with the idea, you understand what I mean? But, oh...oh WHATEVER!” His hands were definitely shaking now, and he was so nervous it made him want to spit. He rushed over to Dirk and all but slammed the letter into his hands, hoping it would stop him from noticing Jake vibrating like a chihuahua. 

Dirk took the letter from Jake as he walked past him, absently leaning against the foot of Jake’s bed. “I wasn’t pressing you, dude.” He said, but absently, and Jake wasn’t listening anyway. He undid the seal on the envelope without quite looking at it or at Jake. His chest felt pretty tight all of a sudden. Distantly he realized they were both still naked, and that there was a swelling of tension going on downstairs. He hoped Jake didn’t notice, but it was too late to worry about that. 

“It’s...it’s unfinished!” He stammered. “At least, probably. I only ever meant it to be a draft or something, I don’t even remember what it says now and it doesn’t even say what I wanted to ask you but I knew I wanted you to read it before I asked so if this is what we’re doing now then first you have to read it.” It came out in a long rush, the words falling over themselves almost too quickly. 

Good lord he was in deep. He wanted to crawl into a cave and hide in his room but this WAS his room and Dirk was here so where was there? Where was there? Nowhere. He still thought he was sure about this at least, which should have been an encouraging sign but instead he was just momentarily certain he was going to weird Dirk the hell out and get him to fly away and this time for good. That thought made no sense probably but knowing that didn’t make it quieter.

 

He saw Dirk’s mouth open and had to interrupt. “Do not DARE try and calm me down, Strider! Or try to focus on making me talk, or doing any emotional maneuvering, or anything! If you veer me off my script for this one I swear I will perform a dashing triple somersault off the handle and flying nose dive into our currently active volcano as if Scrooge McDuck had just inherited a SECOND golden ocean! Just READ it, and then let me say exactly what I planned to say, please and thank you.”

His breath caught in his chest. He really hoped Dirk hadn’t picked up on his use of the word _Our_. Instead he focused on breathing straight, counted the interminable moments pass by as Dirk’s eyes slid away from him and down to his text, deftly removed from the envelope without breaking a moment’s focus on him. Typical Strider. His mouth didn’t move at all as his eyes wandered down the path on the page. 

 

Dirk, 

I wish i could just tell you this stuff in person chum you know i really do. It’s been like four whole days of me crammed in my room now while i worked on this, and i know you hate when i’m away but sometimes i just need time to relax and process everything. 

It’s just...so much easier to get the words out here, like this, where i can take my time and plan it out and think. And this is really important, maybe the most important, because it’d be so easy for it to go wrong and i really really really don’t want to hurt you anymore.

You know lately i’ve been thinking i feel like maybe i’m more myself when i’m talking to you through letters or pesterchum than i am when i actually have to speak? That probably sounds weird though and anyway it’s not the point so let’s not get off the beaten trail here. 

The trail in question being.

I had a lot of stuff i was looking forward to, when i thought about us being together finally. Not like, TOGETHER together though also that of course, but i mean like...just being in the same place? It doesn’t matter, you get it i’m sure. So there was a lot of stuff i imagined, that made me excited and happy and stuff. Like, the obvious romantic fantasies to be sure. Kissing and adventuring together and the things guys are supposed to get up to in bed and the like. 

And a lot of that has gone well, of late! An absolutely massive amount of excellent, all around. Cripes i really can’t believe it's been like, SIX MONTHS since we finished washing our hands of the Caliborn stuff (and also, like, created him as Lord English? Ugh…). But really what seems even more unfathomable is we’ve now been together about that long, too. And we haven’t blown the whole thing to kingdom come! Not that it hasn’t been tough but really when i look back we seem to just be getting better and better. And yeah it's true i had fantasies and you lived up to all of them now that we sorta know how to pass this ball but…

You know how in the movies sometimes they say the best parts of love are the ones you cant think of? Like just, you decide to tie your life to someone and then over time you realize you scarcely even understood who they are, and they just show you newer and newer sides of themselves or make your life better in ways you never even imagined they could have?

That’s how it’s been for me lately i guess. 

I wasn’t expecting to feel so much safer with you, for one thing. Did you know i used to be scared all the time, dirk? It’s true, i was never really all that brave a journeyman, even back on the island. I’m not sure if you saw through my facade or not but i certainly didn’t. And while i don’t think i really understood the difference in dangers back then looking back i’m so glad i had your brobot looking after me because i’m sure at least a few times, when i was worried about monsters and stuff, it helped me to think there was something on the island that would at least try and save me if things got too hot under the collar. That there was something on which i could count.

But with the actual you, it’s also like that... and also, more than that? Because you don’t just make me feel safer, especially now that there’s no immediate physical threats. You just make me feel more...sure of everything. My surroundings, and myself. I think i’m figuring out who i am better, and just for doubles because apparently you don’t do enough, it’s also like i’m learning who i am is actually a pretty good person to be. You all seem to think so, and i think i’m starting to also. Well, i hope so at least.

There’s just so many ways i feel more competent, and smarter. I can count on you telling me if i say something really weird to jane or dave or anyone and that makes it so much easier to relax and be more personable. I feel like i’m getting better with engineering stuff lately, too. It’s like maybe your natural skill is rubbing off on me somehow. Or maybe i always had it in me but i was just too insecure about myself? I dunno. Whatever it is you’re making it better, and that matters to me. 

And then there’s...well. Maybe this isn’t the kind of thing one should bring up in a heartfelt missive to their best bro/lover, like it seems impolite? But it’s a really good example and i know you care a lot about this stuff and like talking about it, and gosh fucking damnit embarrassing as it may be i do too!! So here’s this other whopper. 

You know, i... never really thought much about blowjobs before we hooked up. It never seemed as romantic or appropriate as, like, I certainly never imagined you would be interested in giving them, or enjoy doing so as much as you seem to. And i DEFINITELY never imagined how much i’d….turn out to enjoy them, also. 

~~Maybe it’s just that you’re always so persnickety about fluids in every other context but i gotta tell you, i’m not sure why but knowing you like to swallow every time makes me feel really good about myself. About everything actually.~~ Christ i’m distracting myself in my own letter, that’s definitely not making it into the final draft! My point here was really just that i enjoy your physical affections quite a bit i’ll write this part better later. 

I dunno i’ve kind of lost my thread a bit here. But here’s one last thing. This one’s a moment. Remember the time you slept over here, like...not the time before my last “break”, but the time before that. I had that really bad nightmare and you said i was screaming so you woke me up? I have nightmares like that all the time lately. About you and jane and roxy hating me, and smiling too hard and everything looking too bright. But...but that time, you were there. And you didn’t make fun or think less of me, you just held me and said it was ok and that you were here. 

Like that. Sometimes the best parts about somebody are the parts you least expect.  
And at the time all i could think was how nice it would be if you could be this close forever. Not like, all the time, but close enough that you could save me like that if it turned out you knew i needed it. Like if you always slept close enough to hear that much, if i got really hollering. I dunno i feel really bad talking about this because it seems unfair. So before i do that i wanna say one last thing. 

I’m still sorry i ran away back then. During the session i mean. I know you know it by now but i really didn’t ever mean to harm you, and it wasn’t that...that i didn’t want to be with you, because i did. You know how in the movies love always looks so simple? It never ever gets complicated, it’s just nice and easy and it all wraps up nice. I guess i thought for a while, if it was true love, then it couldn’t get complicated. If it did maybe it meant it just wasn’t right all along. 

But, one thing i’m learning about all this is...maybe it’s okay if it's complicated. Actually maybe it’s a good thing. After all. Things got SO complicated between all of us, with EVERYTHING actually, but...but in the end, it all brought us here, didn’t it? And i think that’s been worth it, despite it all.I hope you agree?

I’d take the tricksters and the sorrow again if it meant you gave me another chance on the other side of it, even though i turned out to be such a disappointment and so darn complicated on top of it all. If it meant i got to be with you and rox and jane and everybody and enjoy things like i am right now. It’d be worth it just to be able to be with you now and start really figuring out how things work inside your heart, to know you were letting me in properly finally. 

So i think i like it if love is complicated now. Maybe real life is better than stories after all. For a while there i really didn’t think it could be, things just got too messed up, but i’m changing my mind about that now. However complicated it’s gotten i’m still really glad i seem to be making things work with you, so it must be worth it. That’s how i feel anyway. 

What i want to ask is also complicated, and i’m not being good enough, because it’s not like i’m saying i want to be together ALL the time. Maybe this would be harder. And i’d be pulling you away from being with Dave and Karkat and everybody all the time, like i’m sure you’d want to. It’s okay if you say no.

But you could stay there almost all the time! And i’m sure sometimes we’d sleep over, or they could all come over, and really we could do something similar with your can over there so we can crash over there a lot like we do anyway. I’m not sure how exactly we’d put it together, but i’m not sure how we would do that here either. Maybe divide up this room somehow, or maybe we could add a room to the tower? Jade’s powers don’t seem exactly suited to the task… 

Oh well. I’m sure if you accept we can figure out the technical stuff, you’ve always been good at that. But don’t feel that you have to. Like i said i know i’m asking a lot, and i’m probably being unfair here. I’d just like it if my favorite place in the world could still be home for a while, because it’s where i got to know all of you and where i could feel safe and happy. 

And...and i think it’s sad you don’t seem to have anywhere to call home anymore, you bounce around too much between your can and dave’s for your stuff to ever seem like it’s settled in one spot. 

So if you don’t have a home still and it’s gotta be somewhere i’d really really like it if home was someplace we went together. I’d always wanted to share my island with you and see you find out how frickin’ rad it was, and now i feel like maybe if you’re into it i might get the chance?

If i can apparently make fake imaginary versions of you real and save you from incredibly insufferable green skull assholes, and if you still want to be with me even though i can't quite stop being THIS insufferable green skull asshole who is selfish and needs to do exactly what he wants and always makes you wait, then maybe dreams can come true after all and if they can then i really really want to try with this one. 

So i guess when all’s said and done i’ve made it pretty obvious but...but here it is since i know karkat will be cross if i’m not clear about it: 

Would you ever spare a thought to moving in here with me? 

It’s ok if you don’t want to, i’ll understand. Just let me know quick because i’m sure i’m losing my knickers waiting for your answer, please please please just let me know fast!!!! 

~~Love~~  
Yours truly,  
Jake.

Dirk just kind of…. stared, down at the letter. Mindblown. Shellshocked. His throat felt awfully full, somehow, he realized. “You…” he started, and then trailed off. His voice had cracked, a little. He gulped, a knot in his throat, and then tried again. “You’ve actually been thinking about this?” He asked, his voice full of stunned, hesitant wonder. 

Jake frowned at him. “Well, yes. Obviously. I can’t have written about it if I didn’t think about it, how does that make a lick of sense?” He said. Licked his lips when Dirk didn’t answer. “You...you don’t have to though, of course. Like I said in the letter, I know it’s a lot to ask.” Oh no. Oh jeez. Dirk was breathing faster, and his eyes were glassy and wet for a second but then he’d looked away from Jake. His hands seemed tight around the letter somehow and he was...pitching a tent, so to speak, though there was no cloth to pitch at the moment. 

Jake couldn’t help himself. In a sense something about Dirk’s composure screamed a positive response, but all the same, he wasn’t speaking. The possibility lingered that he really had screwed the pooch, like molten lead in his stomach. Here he was, bare as the day he was born, baring his heart for Dirk, trying to be honest like he’d been told after a wonderful day of romance and passion--still, he was finding a way to fuck it up.

“At least, I hope I said that. I wrote an awful lot of stuff,” he continued, more to fill up the silence than anything. “It’s hard to keep track of it all now thinking back on it, and I’m sure it must’ve been a doozy and a half to read, so--”

“You said it.” Dirk choked out, voice gravely and cracked but still wonderful. “That you knew it was a lot to ask, I mean.” 

“Ah. Yes. Thanks. You know, it’s hard to be sure of--” 

“Yes.”

“What?”

“The answer’s yes.” 

Jake looked down at him, eyes wide. Dirk captchalogued the letter and Jake wanted to protest, but he didn’t find the time. Because Dirk was wiping a tear off his face with his index finger, and then those piercing orange eyes were looking straight up at him, full of desire and intent. Determination. Satisfaction.  
“Nothing would make me happier, if you’re serious about it.” Dirk said simply. “I’d prefer a solution a little more elegant than like, splitting rooms up or whatever, but if you really mean it then...you know, we can figure it out. We have time.” He sounded weak, somehow. Like every last bit of restraint had been sucked out of him through a straw. 

“Oh.” Jake said. “U-um. Alright. Aces, then. I’m delighted.” And he was, though he had a feeling the knowledge hadn’t set yet. It didn’t feel real or anything, and he suspected it wouldn’t until it actually happened. If even then. Dirk laughed, a high, loose sound. To Jake’s ears, it sounded awfully inviting. Dirk confirmed his impression by looking up at him again, his hands now free to reach out and grasp him by the small of his back. 

“So. Lord of the Rings?” Dirk offered. Jake’s eyes lit up but only at the same time that he noticed he was hard again, too, as much as Dirk was. And sitting on his bed like that, well...Dirk’s elevation seemed awfully comfortable. 

“Maybe in a little while.” He said playfully, and Dirk’s loving smile spread into a wicked, sly grin. Jake knew right away what he was getting at. “I think I’ve got some different plans.” 

They didn’t finish the series, that night.


End file.
